


The Meaning of Love

by MamikoMukoMaziyagawa



Series: The Society of Shifters [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: (it’s very brief though), 17th Century, And that’s not a threat, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, But only a little, Discrimination, Discrimination against Shapeshifters, Dragons, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Everyone Is Gay, Fantasy, Fantasy Creatures, GAY DRAGONS, Gay Lovers, Gore, Hate Crimes, High Fantasy, Homicide, Homophobia, I also love my two gay bois, I have no idea what I’m doing, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, Love Confessions, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Rape, Minor Character Death, Murder, My First AO3 Post, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Racism, Reckless Behavior, Shapeshifters - Freeform, They’re basically enemies-with-benefits at the start, They’re both terrible at feelings though, This is a love story, This is a trilogy, Trans Character, Transphobia, War, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000, You’ll see what I mean once you read it, afab character, and I like to hurt my characters, and there are shapeshifters, but I can’t guarantee we’ll get to that point any time soon, but eventually they love each other, but it’s kind’ve dark and full of war and death, but not really, how does one tag?, i didn’t even mean for this to be so gay, it’s a promise, mass kilings, mythical creatures, the story doesn’t focus on any of these but they are there, the title was changed from “World on Fire”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21777871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamikoMukoMaziyagawa/pseuds/MamikoMukoMaziyagawa
Summary: some forget that their enemies are much the same as he who fights to slay them, whilst others relish in knowing the pain they have brought to those they most despise.Kuma Sabiston has fought a long battle against so much: against the man who stole his heart and slaughtered his parents, against the humans who think it their birthright to slay Kuma’s species, and against his very self. Things are not easy, but as a war general, he learns to prevail.Mizuku Rashiko has been angry for a long time: angry at the one who took his parents away from him, angry at the species their murderer once belonged to, angry at the Hunters for not doing better to protect his parents like they once promised they would, and most notably, angry with himself. Mizuku allows that anger to fester into a searing rage that gives him the strength to get out of bed and continue to fight that without that anger he would otherwise lack.They were never meant to fall in love, and how they did anyway could only be speculated about with mystified eyes, for not even they themselves knew how. They were supposed to hate each other, they were supposed to kill each other:So why could they not?(This is a first draft.)
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Society of Shifters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569469
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time posting something on Ao3 so I’m pretty nervous but also super excited! I really hope you enjoy this silly little story that I’ve been writing in my spare time, but if not, that’s okay too! I don’t have a beta or anything so I apologize if there are any mistakes, I’ve proofread it like a hundred times so hopefully there isn’t, but the warning still remains.
> 
> If at any point you find yourself confused about something that wasn’t properly explained, please let me know! I’ve tried my hardest to explain this universe as well as I can, but it’s difficult sometimes because I already have a deep understanding of the world. 
> 
> I want to do my best but sometimes I don’t quite make it there, so any help is always appreciated!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the story!

He felt the blood pumping through his veins, nerves alight with terror. It was the startling clarity that scared him the most, knowing without a doubt meant he could not pray to god and hope he was mistaken. What was going to happen now? Where was he to go? Who was he to know?

It was the broken sob of his little brother that brought him to his senses. That’s right, he could no longer think selfishly. The little boy was just as scared as he was, that’s why Kuma knew he needed to, as the older of the two, do something and do it now. With the thought firmly in place, he put on a brave face and stepped forward, keeping an indifferent facade as he approached the crying boy.

“We need to go.” Kuma’s voice sounded scratchy with emotion, eyes red and irritated with unshed tears. Still, he kept his stride from wavering and his head held high.

“But dad——‘n mom.” Little MacQuarrie’s voice was unsteady, body shaking as though an earthquake were present.

“We have to go now.” Kuma didn’t wait for another objection, he simply grabbed Mac by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Even as Mac began to kick and scream, crying for his mother and father, Kuma did not stop moving forward through the house in search of their older brothers.

“They’re gone, Mac. They’re gone.”

It didn’t take long for the two eldest Sabiston brothers to be located —Mac finally going lax in Kuma’s hold and allowing himself to be dragged from room to room— near the back of the house. Their battered condition would have been concerning if Kuma was at all focused on them. Instead, the other person in the room had completely captivated his attention. It felt as though a freezing cold bucket of ice had been dumped over his head the moment he locked eyes with those startling blue orbs.

“...Sean?” He hesitantly inquired, not believing his eyes. Sean was standing in the center of the room, a gun pressed point-blank to the head of Kuma’s older brother, Gavin. Iain, the second of the twin brother duo, was standing nearby with fearful eyes, hoping to god or whatever deity out there that Sean didn’t pull that trigger and murder his twin in cold blood. Kuma didn’t want to believe what he was seeing, but the evidence was overwhelming. An unsettling feeling filled his gut when he put two and two together by assuming the bloodstains on Sean’s jacket once belonged to his mother and father and that said gun had been their demise.

“My name isn’t Sean,” the voice that responded sounded nothing like the Sean Kuma once knew. Sure, it had the same raspy undertones, and maybe there was still that Irish lilt to it, but that was not his Sean. Not the one who whispered the promise of a better future into his ear, or the one he spent so much time laughing with. This Sean spoke with so much disgust simply because Kuma stood before him. It made Kuma want to fall to his knees and curl up into a tiny ball of misery.

Had everything been a lie? Did Sean only pretend to love him? For what purpose?. Did Sean use him just to get closer to his family? And what does he mean when he says his name is not Sean? Is his personality, his name, everything that Kuma knew him as, is that all fake? A million and one questions plagued Kuma’s mind, but he could not figure out a single answer no matter how long he stared at the man he once thought he knew.

“Why?” What else could he say? He was so exhausted and drained from everything that had happened today, all he could still feel was numbness.

“Monsters shouldn’t be allowed to live among us. The Hunters are doing the world a favor.” His words felt like a slap to the face, Kuma’s composure beginning to crack as the tears slid down his cheeks. Sean’s finger slipped down to the trigger and that’s when Kuma knew he needed to get over himself before he lost another family member. The emotions tore through him, igniting his flames of rage and leaving no room for the numbness that once trapped him. It took less than a second for Kuma’s wings to tear through his shirt and fully extend, propelling him forward fast enough to reach Sean and smack the gun from his hand before Sean could even think to pull the trigger. 

“You created this monster.” The beast inside Kuma found a sick glee in the expression of absolute terror on Sean’s face, his red glowing eyes lighting up the entire room as his albino wings arched high overhead. Just before the promised final blow, Kuma paused to ponder his morals. What should he do? This man killed his family, and who knows how many other families suffered the same fate, did he really deserve mercy? Kuma’s inner thoughts offered a resounding: NO.

His claws tore through flesh, sharp fangs glinting in the dim light a nearby lamp provided in the dead of night. Inside, his stomach lurched with disgust at himself for what he had made of Sean, but he could not find it in himself to feel any remorse for his parent’s murderer. He only paused once he was sure Sean had taken his last breath, gaze moving away from the lifeless form that lay on the floor in order to look up at his brothers. Iain looked almost relieved to see that his twin was alright, Gavin held a face of horror as he looked upon the fresh corpse, while little MacQuarrie cried and shook with terror, eyeing Kuma with a fearfully tearful gaze that seemed to almost see him for the first time for what he truly was: a monster.

Kuma Silently agreed with his younger brother, he truly was a disgusting monster for what he had done, but it was necessary for his family’s survival and he knew he would do it again if he ever had the chance to go back in time to just before he killed Sean. The thought provided no comfort to his weeping heart, having just lost the only person he had ever truly loved.

It made no difference now, but Kuma had never abused his power over humankind because he only ever dreamed of fitting in and belonging to their prosperous species. He, a shifter, had spent his entire existence in hiding because his parents feared what would happen if those they lived among knew of their kind. But the careful concealment had all been in vain, as Kuma had fallen in love and let down his guards, telling his most well-kept secret to the one person he never should have.

The three eldest Sabistons had worked quickly and efficiently to hide the body and clean the bloodstains so that no one would ever know what they had done. Then, the four remaining Sabistons hurried away from their former home and the two bloodied corpses of their parents, knowing full well they would never be able to stay in Scotland with the knowledge of what they had done, and never would they see the light of day if they returned.

~-~

The plan was to leave Scotland as soon as possible for fear that they might be attacked once again. Sean was no longer among the living but that did not mean they were safe. Kuma was sure the attempt on his family’s life was an orchestrated event by multiple persons. The only issue with the plan was that they had no money and transportation was expensive. Of course, there were less-than-legal ways around such an issue. That’s how the four of them found themselves as stowaways aboard an old fishing boat.

“Couldn’t we have picked a different boat? This one reeks of fish.” Gavin complained; his twin agreed.

“You should be overjoyed then, you’re both bird-brains after all.” That caused Gavin to let out an indignant squawk, wings fluffing up as he flailed around ungracefully. Humor had been a rare occurrence since the untimely death of their parents. Then again, when was death ever timely? The mood among the Sabiston brothers had been solemn at best, and that’s not even taking into account the fact that they’d been extremely tense in their best attempts to remain undiscovered by those who occupied the ship.

Both the oldest Sabiston twins were classified as what is known as, ‘Bird Shifters’ to their species. They have the innate ability to transform, or shift, into a specific bird at will, along with being gifted the capability of flight while in human form due to the proportionally large wings attached to their backs at all times. The youngest Sabiston, MacQuarrie, was a simple ‘snake shifter.’ He carried no traits from his animal form over to his human form. Kuma’s animal form was a bit more complicated than the rest. You see, Kuma’s animal took the form of a mighty dragon and had long since been believed to have gone extinct. 

Once upon a time, shifters and humans had once lived in peaceful harmony with each other under the rule of the great and humble Dragon. But that all changed after they began to grow selfish and greedy with power, while gluttonous with gold. The humans refused to be complacent, choosing instead to begin a war to end the horrible rein of the Dragon. Eventually, desperate hope won out over powerful greed, and the dragons have been believed to be extinct ever since. The rest of shifter kind had done what they could to survive by burying their culture in carefully placed fairytales that would ensure they only be known as a myth to all future generations. Only very few direct descendants of those who fought in the ‘Last Forgivings War’ still know of their existence.

The four of them stuck to the lower bowls of the ship, only sneaking up to the upper decks in order to steal fish and sate their growing hunger. Going undetected was extremely difficult when they were stealing fish from the sailors so they only did it once every other day and usually only took eight fish at most. Any more and the fishermen would probably grow suspicious. Once they got back to the storage room they’d been living in, Kuma would ration the fish and cook the rest with his dragon fire. One fish a day was hardly enough to survive off of but they had no choice but to make due. Max was still young and had been through far more than any six-year-old should, so Kuma would often share his fish with him. The last thing Kuma wanted to do was add starvation to the list of traumatic things Mac had to go through this month. They’d managed to remain hidden for a total of two weeks before one of them, quite literally, slipped up and alerted the occupants of the ship.

The day had started out like any other, the four kids masterfully sneaking up to the deck of the ship where fresh fish was being sorted through and thrown into large buckets. There were a total of five buckets but they only had their eyes set on the closest to their hiding place. All was well as they each grabbed a fish or two, but then Mac ended up slipping and falling in an ungraceful heap onto the wet boards of the ship deck. It didn’t help that he also ended up tripping one of the fishermen as he did so. All in all, they had most certainly been spotted because all of the fishermen were surrounding them and preventing escape as they were dragged to their feet and herded to the captain’s quarters. While not particularly spacious, the captain’s quarters gave a very comfy vibe. Even so, all four of them were trembling with visible fear as the captain came into view. 

The captain was a grey-bearded old man with warm eyes and a friendly smile. He was sitting at an old wooden desk writing out a letter on a piece of parchment, though he was quick to cap the inkpot and set aside his quill once he noticed the uninvited guests.

“We found ‘em stealin’ fish, sir,” one of the fishermen said in a gruff voice as the four Sabistons were released from their hold. The captain said nothing, simply watching curiously for a moment in silence. Kuma was beyond terrified. He’d already seen the lengths people would go to in order to slaughter his kind and he and his brother’s wings kind’ve gave them away, so there was no telling what the man would do to them.

“How old are you, kids?” Was not at all what Kuma thought would come out of the man’s mouth.

“Six,” MacQuarrie responded before Kuma could stop him. Giving information to this man, no matter how insignificant, did not seem like a good idea, but apparently, he was the only one who thought so because a few seconds later he heard two hesitant “seventeens” from the lips of his two older brothers. Kuma gave the two bird-brains the most incredulous and scandalized look he could muster but they simply shrugged in response. Kuma refused to answer the question.

“You lads must be hungry, here,” the man motioned them over to a table full of food, “eat up.” Mac and the twins were all too eager to eat their fill, but Kuma stayed put by the door where the fishermen had plopped them before heading back out the door.

“Do you have a name?” The captain addressed Kuma specifically but he still refused to speak.

“Well, my name is Kieran but you can call me Kenny if you want,” the captain offered to Kuma in the hopes that it would encourage some kind of response. It didn’t.

“Okay, how ‘bout I call you...Johnny. You look like a Johnny,” Kuma’s glare darkened, “no? What about Greg? Or Robert? I think Thompson might suit you nicely,” the man continued to list off names despite Kuma’s scowl.

“Kuma,” he finally caved because it did not seem that Kieran was ever going to stop until Kuma gave his name.

“Benson maybe? Or—Kuma. I think that suits you just fine.” The smile Kuma received was not at all what he was expecting but he didn’t really have time to think about it because suddenly a deer, of all things, was bursting through the door at running speed before sliding across the floor and ending up knocking a chair over as it slid into it.

“What did I say about running on the deck? Shift back right now, young man.” Kieran scolded the deer, who suddenly was no longer a deer, but rather, a human boy with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Kieran continued to scold the boy in a low tone before turning to address everyone else in the room.

“This is my son, Macbeth,” Kieran said with a proud smile.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, yes we are shifters like you and no we’re not going to throw you overboard or anything like that. You’re all very much welcome aboard this here vessel.”

“You’re all probably here because you’re trying to escape from something, or more precisely, someone. Am I right?” There was nothing judgmental in the man’s face or posture, sympathetic understanding being all that Kuma could gleam from Kieran. Kuma began to fidget uncomfortably as painful memories from only a fortnight prior resurfaced. Kuma generally tried not to lapse into the memories because it was him who was single-handedly keeping everyone in one piece and holding them all together. Kuma had to be strong for the sake of his brothers, but Kuma couldn’t be that if he focused on the loss and heartbreak. God only knows what would become of him if he focused on the blood staining his hands.

Kieran took their somber silence as an affirmation, “you are all very brave to have come this far on your own but you aren’t alone anymore. We shifters look after our own.” His friendly smile reminded Kuma of his formerly living father, which both comforted and saddened him as a rush of conflicting feelings washed over him.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Kieran asked as he procured a map from his mahogany desk, spreading it out across the table.

“We weren’t really...thinking about that,” escaping their imminent doom was deemed far more important than where that escape led them to. Kieran nodded in understanding but he hardly seemed surprised.

“there’s a place in North America where shifters are safe. It’s a secret safe haven where they can’t attack you,” Kieran didn’t even need to clarify who “they” were because Kuma understood far more than he ever wished he did.

“It’s called Storia and can only be entered by our kind,” he gestured to a point on the map and Kuma’s gaze followed. It was at this point that Kuma realized that this was no ordinary map. On the map was an outline of North America along with all ship ports highlighted. But that wasn’t what intrigued him, Kuma was fascinated by all the drawn-out routes leading away from the ship ports. The map was cluttered with an amalgamation of shifter safe houses but only a few were outlined in red to indicate that they were available along the many routes drawn in red pen. All the red lines led up to the same point on the map. “Storia” was written in thick black ink and encircled by red.

“A group of shifters are being dropped off here,” Kieran said as he pointed to one of the east coast ports, “you can go with them if you want. It’s safer in numbers after all,” the man had said that they would be safe. Safe was not something Kuma had felt since the day they first ran but it was something he wished desperately to feel again. A quick glance at his three brothers standing next to the table told him that they felt the same.

“How many are there?” Aside from Kuma’s family, he had never seen another shifter before. His kind was few and far between.

“I’ll show you,” Kieran said as he motioned for them all to follow.

He led them to a room positively brimming with life. Inside there had to have been thirty or more shifters, some were curled up on their bedrolls reading or knitting, while others sat in small circles sharing stories and laughing, many held downtrodden expressions, mourning present in their posture as they struggled to cope with the loss all of them had undoubtedly gone through. Kuma was surprised at just how many children bounded about.

“They’re all...?” Kuma was speechless. The number of persons in the room far exceeded his expectations and left him gobsmacked.

“Yes. E’ry last one of ‘em,” his smile was gentle and encouraging as he placed a calloused hand on Kuma’s shoulder, “do you wanna join ‘em?” Kuma could feel his feelings getting the best of him, he had felt so very alone and helpless before, he and his brothers trying their hardest to be strong and to survive, but now this man was willingly offering assistance, guidance, safety, and a second chance Kuma thought he would never receive. The gratitude and relief warred with his fear and pain, leaving Kuma defenseless in the wake of long-overdue tears.

“It’s alright. You’re no longer on your own anymore.” Kieran was quick to offer comfort, his sun-kissed arms wrapping around Kuma’s trembling form as he finally succumbed to the violent sobs.

“You’re safe now.”

Over the next six weeks, Kuma and his brothers began to settle into their group. They made plenty of new friends and acquaintances, Macbeth —Kieran’s son— became quite close with them, Kuma specifically. He was funny, eccentric, and smart which made for great company in Kuma’s opinion. His older brothers did not agree —“he literally spent an hour telling us what he ate for supper,” “I thought it was a lovely story,” “all he had to say was that it was mushy brown slop. I didn’t even know there were so many synonyms for nasty.”— both of the Jeong brothers also insisted on doting over the four of them. Nikaraga, the oldest of the two by only a minute and a half, was especially protective over them and always looked out for their wellbeing, while Silvious, the more playful and mischievous of the two, always made sure they were laughing and entertained rather than being depressed and bored with nothing to occupy them aside from their negative thoughts. Vida was also a comfort to be around. She was always so optimistic and understanding despite everything she had been through. It pained Kuma to see the guilt so often plastered across the poor woman’s face, but there was simply nothing he could do. Vida had once told Kuma that if she hadn’t been pregnant, she never would have left her seventeen-year-old son behind in Puerto Rico, but he insisted she leave before the hunters tried to kill her, and subsequently, her unborn son. Hardy, her son, had stayed behind to make sure they could not follow. It was the biggest regret she ever made and she hoped beyond all reason that he was okay.

Everyone here had lost someone, Macbeth’s mother, the Jeong twin’s parents, Vida’s entire family aside from her son, and the Sabiston brother’s parents. They were all in pain and they were all trying to get better together.

~-~

It had been a long month and a half full of newly-formed friendships and emotional rollercoasters, but now they had reached the coast of America and it was time to say goodbye to the McCarthy family.

“You lads be safe now, a’ight?” Kieran said as he walked them off the boat and onto the docks. Kuma nodded in acknowledgment as their group came into view. It was safer to travel in groups of eight at the very most. Any more and they might start to draw attention to themselves. It was also safer to leave at different times which is why Kuma’s group was the only one still here.

“We will, and,” Kuma stopped in his tracks and turned to hug the sailor, which startled a laugh out of the man, “thank you, Kieran.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” Kieran pat Kuma on the head before stepping away so that his son could tackle Kuma in a bone-crushing embrace, “stay alive, okay?” Macbeth said in a quiet, broken-sounding voice. The tears were already forming in the Irish boy’s eyes.

“I’ll come to visit one day, I promise.” With that, the long journey began. The Sabistons would be traveling with Vida, Nikaraga, and Silvious.

The journey ended up being a long two weeks of almost constant walking. They would only stop to eat and rest at the shifter safe houses. They were extremely fortunate to have only come across the Hunters once during the trip. The encounter had left them shaken but they had all luckily passed for human thanks to the makeup covering their shifter marks.

At times, the morale among their group was low. They were all struggling both personally and as a group. It was terribly depressing every time they made it to one of the shelters and all they found was a room full of extremely injured and traumatized shifters. It was especially disheartening to see so many broken souls and orphaned children. They even added a young boy to their group by the name of Aki. The hunters had killed his mother right in front of him before they preceded to slit his throat. only, it didn’t kill him, it only stole his voice. In the ensuing chaos, Aki had been separated from his, thankfully still alive, sister and father. With no way to find them, Aki had been extremely lost and alone. That’s why they offered to traverse to Storia together.

Eventually, their grueling Journey finally came to an end and they were all very much relieved and excited. None of them had ever seen what Storia was like before so they were anxious to find out. They happened across a villa with the moon of the shifter subtly decorated all along the front of the house so that you would only notice if you were looking for it. When they knocked on the door, two very large men appeared in the doorway. Nikaraga was the first to pull back his sleeve and scrub away the makeup concealing his moon-shaped birthmark that signified he was a shifter. Everyone else followed after his example and soon the guards were pulling back their own sleeves to show their marks before motioning them in. They were led through the house and into the main living quarters where a large rug was then pulled back to reveal a trap door.

“Storia will be found at the end. Good luck,” one of the guards said as Silvious led the group down into a sparsely lit tunnel.

Kuma felt as though the tunnel went on indefinitely. It was cold, dark, and damp with only a lantern to light the way and he could practically feel MacQuarrie’s fear reverberate against the walls. It took them nearly an entire day and a good portion of the night to trek all the way through to the other side. They considered turning back multiple times but ultimately decided that they had gotten this far and so, giving up simply was not an option. Because the sky had become inky black, they had not at first noticed that they were nearing the end and were pleasantly surprised when the claustrophobic-inducing walls opened up into a valley with a flowing river just to the left of where they emerged from.

Upon the hill stood a village that was teeming with life, birds flew high in the sky along with many winged men, horses and deer were darting about as a young child gleefully chased after them, a pack of wolves lazed about on one of the porches, and none of the people mulling about seemed at all discomfited about it. Vida was already in tears at the sight of an all-shifter town and Kuma was surprised that his eyes were still dry.

After nearly three full months of fear, pain, and uncertainty, finally, it was over. His brothers were safe, he was safe, and Kuma hadn’t realized just how tense he was until it all bled out of his frame in a rush of relief.

“Come on, let’s go greet the other shifters,” Kuma said to his younger brother with a grin forming on his face as he watched a genuine smile appear on the boy’s face.

They were finally home.


	2. The pitfalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuma is now a high-ranking officer of the Shifter militia, but he has a few close calls with death; Kuma meets his black-haired, blue-eyed arch-nemesis, Mizuku Rashiko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is the first chapter where we will be meeting Kuma’s love interest so I’m considerably excited!
> 
> Again, I have no beta reader so it was proofread only by myself.
> 
> If you have any questions about the characters, story, or universe, do not be afraid to voice them! I’d love to hear what you have to say!
> 
> Anyways, let us commence!

~five years later~

“We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry it up!” Kuma called from his place by the mantelpiece, fumbling with the buttons of his white blouse all the while. Beside him, Nikaraga was lacing up his boots while his twin, Silvious, had yet to emerge from his bedroll. Finally, just as Kuma was tying his cravat into place, Silvious stepped into the room groggily with a tired expression. As soon as Nikaraga noticed his state of dress, he let out an exasperated huff before rushing over to right all the wrongs of his brother’s uniform.

“Honestly, Vio, is it so hard to look presentable?” Nikaraga chided as he straightened the man’s cravat. He groaned once he noticed the buttons of his blouse; Silvious had missed two buttons in his haste to get ready and Nikaraga was terribly displeased at how uneven this made the shirt. Kuma could only smile fondly at Nikaraga’s doting and fussing, the smile growing bigger at Vio’s grumbling and complaining. The two of them often reminded Kuma of his older brothers, Gavin and Iain, which turned the smile on his face bittersweet. He hadn’t seen them in years, in fact, he wasn’t even sure they were alive. They left Storia on the precipice of their eighteenth birthday and never came back. The two of them were in a lot of pain, they were angry, and much of that anger had been misplaced. That’s why they blamed Kuma and began to lash out, it was Kuma who had kicked them out, telling them to come back only once they learned how to be decent and deserving of the roof Kuma put over their heads, but they never returned.

Kuma only finally intervened once he noticed the time to be a quarter past six, Silvious happily escaping at Kuma’s reminder of the time and just where exactly they needed to be.

The three of them rushed from their barracks at an impressive speed, hurrying in the hopes that they would not be late, god only knows what would become of them if they kept him of all people waiting.

“How good of you to join us,” a deep rumbling voice echoed loudly from the front of the room.

“Commander Hana.” Kuma regarded the man with a curt nod, the Jeong brothers mimicking him. In the center of the room, stood a 6’5 man with a long trench coat and suspenders. He was wearing a riband deserving of his rank and stood proudly in the center of the large crowd of officers. He strode over and stood before Kuma in all his commanding glory, dwarfing Kuma and making his 4’10 stature feel far smaller than already was. Hana leveled Kuma with a withering stare as he loomed over him, before a smile brightened his once stern features and his hand landed on Kuma’s shoulder in the form of a very strong pat on the back that jostled Kuma more than was strictly necessary.

“Welcome, friends! Come! Sit down,” Hana used the hand on Kuma’s shoulder to guide him towards one of the few remaining seats reserved for only generals and high-ranking officers. Nikaraga and Silvious moved to stand beside Kuma.

“Now that we are all gathered and present, I would like to address the elephant in the room, and no Lieutenant Monty, I do not mean you.” Lieutenant Monty, an elephant shifter, laughed from where he was by the wall, along with many others including Hana himself.

“I would like to address the recent attacks.” The mirth faded instantly from the commander-in-chief’s hues, which was the most telling sign of the serious topic to come.

“The Hunter’s militia is encroaching ever further on our troops stationed out by Pitfalls creek. They are being smothered by the enemies to the point where even sending a simple letter has become nigh impossible and every time we send more supplies, the Hunter’s raid our carriages. They need reinforcements desperately if they are to even stand a chance against the Hunters, so I’ll be sending a division to aide them. The question now is which one?” Hana paced back and forth in front of his troops, weighing his options carefully. Everyone knew that it was essentially a death sentence to be sent out there which left very few willing volunteers.

“Send me,” there was only one general crazy enough to request a death sentence.

“Kuma, are you nuts?!” Silvious exclaimed with a horrified expression, Nikaraga looked like he was going to be sick.

“No, listen, I am a strategic advantage—“ Kuma began, “that we cannot afford to lose!” Nikaraga cried, “—that we MUST exploit to our fullest advantage.” Nikaraga expostulated with Kuma in vain, for Kuma refused to back down and give up his point. Hana listened silently with a contemplative countenance, seeming to consider both sides of the argument.

“General Sabiston is correct; the only one who has any chance of retaking the Pitfalls is him.” Hana seemed hesitant to voice his next order as he had grown fond of the Scott, but someone had to do it and Hana could think of no general more competent than Kuma.

“Sabiston and his division will be sent as reinforcements. You will be leaving at 0800 tomorrow. Meeting adjourned.” Hana dismissed everyone, though he motioned for Kuma to stay.

“I expect monthly reports from you, and, Kuma, good luck. I’ll see you on the other side of the war.” Hana kept a professional distance from Kuma, but he did indulge ever so slightly by placing his wide open palm on Kuma’s shoulder.

“You too, sir,” Kuma felt saddened by his departure mostly because a dark part of himself thought that he was never going to see this man again.

Hana would have sent himself if he didn’t already have his hands full trying to break through the front lines of the Hunter militia attempting to invade Storia. Kuma was glad it was he who would go instead, the shifters needed Hana after all. With a last goodbye, Kuma marched from the now-empty town house that served as their headquarters, head held high as he embraced his fate. Kuma was prepared to die in the line of duty, his only regret would be leaving MacQuarrie alone and family-less. Kuma had left the boy in the care of Vida after he’d joined the shifter army, but he told Mac that he would return. Kuma hoped he wouldn’t break his promise.

~-~

Morning brought light to the town of Storia and dragged many from their bedrolls; Kuma happened to be one of them. He was on his feet packing and directing troops even before the sun had fully risen so that they would be ready for departure by the allotted time. With over 6’000 troops under Kuma’s command, he certainly had his hands full and only had time to slip away for a moment near the end to hurry back to his shared quarters in order to pack his meager belongings.

At eight A.M. exactly, their mismatched group of animals began heading forward into the damp forest ahead. Kuma and his two closest friends, Silvious and Nikaraga, were near the back in order to make sure everyone was accounted for.

“Do you require assistance equipping your harness?” Nikaraga said as Kuma spread the straps out below on the ground. Kuma often wore a harness while in dragon form so that the shifters with smaller, slower animals could ride on his back rather than getting left behind; many with animal forms that were fast and could be ridden wore harnesses.

“Just to hook the straps,” Kuma replied before preparing to shift. In his place an albino dragon with ruby red eyes appeared, his reddish brown locks becoming white as snow scales, while his once human silhouette became elongated with two extra legs dipped in pink and a long tail with a pink furry ball at the end swishing behind him. On his white head stood two whisker-like prongs topped by round, furry balls of fluff, his front claws extending as he stretched out his limbs like a cat. After stretching his legs, he in turn spread his white and pink-tipped wings out as far as they would reach —careful not to impale anyone on the sharp points of his wings— before returning to a neutral position so that Nikaraga could fasten the harness around him.

Nikaraga stepped back once he was done to do a once over before giving the all clear and ushering over Lieutenant Hansen, the only shifter here that seemed fearless in the face of —and more specifically on the back of— a fully fledged dragon. Sally Hansen was a veteran when it came to traversing and riding a dragon into battle and was actually the only person who had willingly and eagerly climbed onto his back and strapped themselves in for the ride.

“Good luck, soldier,” Nikaraga said to the black-haired African woman as she hooked herself in. Sally did not give a verbal response, she simply grinned and gripped onto the hand holds as tightly as possible. Kuma puffed out a cloud of smoke from his nostrils before taking off in a full blown sprint. Kuma waited until Nikaraga’s barred owl and Silvious’ grey Shrike form to zip past before he leapt into the sky and took off after them.

Kuma’s leathery wings beat rapidly, fighting against air currents and gravitational pull as he darted across the sky at alarming speeds. Sally was normally only a passenger who came along for the ride, but sometimes she would adjust her seat and dig her heels into his scaly sides, which was her way of asking Kuma to dive low and do a barrel roll. Sometimes he’d indulge her and other times he’d tell her “not now” by swatting at Sally with his tail. Today he was feeling rather mischievous.

Kuma bared his sharp fangs in the form of a smile before angling his wings and sending the both of them spiraling towards the hard earth below. At the very last moment, he pulled up, the wolf shifter that had been wackef in the face by Kuma’s tail growled and made to swipe at him but Kuma zoomed away before he could.

Sally let out a breathless laugh as they ascended above the trees once more, Kuma also breathing out a laugh, though it sounded far closer to a huff of air than anything else.

All mirth faded quickly from them as gunshots sounded nearby and the shifters below began to drop dead. The hunters responsible for the ambush were quick to reveal themselves with their guns blazing. The resulting skirmish was bloody as the surprised shifters tried to gain some semblance of an advantage despite their lacking numbers and overall unprepared state. Kuma was at the moment the only edge they had, which quickly brought him to action.

Kuma dived low and spat fire at a group of hunters responsible for shooting many of the flying shifters from the sky. Before doing a one-eighty mid-flight so that he could scorch the hunters attacking from behind. Sally was quick to pull her pistol from its sheath and rain fire down on the enemy. Kuma circled above the battlefield for most of the attack, his claws never dipping low enough to touch the ground, though his tail did on multiple occasions after what many presume to be fur on the end of his tail hardened and took the shape of spikes that he used to crush and mortally wound those unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with him.

Eventually, he touched down and gave a mighty roar as the hunters began to flee. One of them paused just long enough to turn and fire a well-aimed shot right at Kuma, the man’s eyes glowering dangerously the entire time they locked eyes with each other. Kuma fortunately dodged and turned just in time to catch another glimpse of long black hair and icy blue eyes before he was gone.

The run-in with the hunters had delayed them terribly and slowed them down, but eventually they arrived at the military camp and were able to treat their wounded, along with settling in and getting some rest after such a long journey. Kuma, however, did not have the luxury of rest as he had to speak with the officers currently in charge. This had been highly dreaded ever since Kuma learned just who he’d be speaking with.

Kuma sighed before knocking once on the flimsy door that stood before him and a man rumored to be a feral animal. He heard a muffled “come in” and begrudgingly stepped into the room. The sight that greeted him was fairly normal considering Kuma’s expectations. A man sat hunched over a pile of foolscap parchment with a quill in hand, though he set it aside once Kuma stepped into the room.

“You must be general Sabiston, I presume?” The man said as he stood and reached over the desk to take Kuma’s hand, “it’s an honor to finally meet you, I’m general Rory Worths.” Rory sat after shaking hands, Kuma doing the same.

“I thought I was to be meeting General Porris?” General Scatch “Scar” Porris had quite the reputation and Kuma had been bracing for a terrible and frustrating conversation, so he was quite confused as to why it was this man that had instead greeted him.

“He took a group of officers out with him to go scouting and has yet to return, though I’m certain he will anon,” Rory answered with his hands clasped together on the desk.

“I see,” Kuma hummed, “will the shifting of command be delayed until his return or do you have the authority to do so now?” Because Kuma was of a higher rank than General Porris —a mere brigadier general as opposed to Kuma’s rank of Major General— he would be taking over the encampment.

“As his second-in-command and acting commander, I am permitted to pass authority to you. Though it will take some time to officialize it.” Paperwork had to be done and quite a few signatures written, but ultimately, it would not be too difficult.

“I suppose while I’m here you might as well tell me who and what we’re up against. The skirmish we had earlier gave some insight but not nearly enough.” Rory sighed, standing from the desk to walk over to where a steaming kettle of tea sat. He poured himself a cup and then another for Kuma who happily took the offered cup of tea. Rory took his time walking back to the desk as he blew on the tea to cool the liquid before he plopped back into the chair rather heavily and finally responded.

“Truthfully, things are not good. We are completely surrounded on every side by encroaching hunters, we can barely even maintain communication with headquarters to request supplies or more soldiers, and while our numbers flounder and diminish, theirs seems to grow every passing day. And that’s not even mentioning what a calculated killer their commander is.” Rory’s eyes were plagued by the ghosts of the war, every word spoken revealing the tremendous weight he bore on his shoulders.

“Tell me more of this commander,” Kuma needed to know his enemies if he had any hope of defeating them.

“Major General Mizuku Rashiko. Not much is known about him aside from the fact that he’s Japanese and hates shifters with a burning passion.” most people thought him to be a demon from the fiery pits of hell, others speculated that he was actually Death himself here only to cast judgement upon ones soul. But despite the numerous rumors about him, almost nothing was actually known. 

“Many say that they feel paralyzed under his scrutinizing gaze, that if he told them to leap from a cliff or drive a dagger through their own heart, they would not be strong enough to resist,” Kuma vividly recalled experiencing a similar feeling when caught by the gaze of those blue eyes only hours prior. He remembered the frozen feeling of his limbs, how he could not bare to move or look away. He felt bewitched as he watched the man’s long black cloak billow out from the wind, his icy hues framed perfectly by the loose strands of his queue.

“I take it he’s a problem then.” Kuma sat back in the chair, sipping occasionally from the cup of steaming liquid in his hand.

“Yes. But it is one we cannot seem to get rid of, he’s far too skilled I’m afraid.” Rory said with a dejected sigh, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I shall see what I can do.” Kuma had never been bested in a fight, but there was always a first for everything.

~-~

In the coming months, Kuma fought in skirmish after skirmish with few appearances of the all too elusive General Rashiko. Every time Kuma finally spotted the man, the fight would end and he would be gone. Kuma searched the newest battlefield with mounting frustration; he had little to show for his efforts. It wasn’t until he had finally given up the search and joined his men on the ground when the commander finally revealed himself.

Kuma tore through his enemies, fangs snapping, tail spikes slashing, and sharp claws dismantling. His distraction with two nameless Hunters meant he did not notice Mizuku until a musket ball was whizzing past him, one that probably would have killed him had he not lunged forward to attack one of the hunters just as the musket ball was fired. It was after he processed what happened that he turned to trace where it had come from. Blood red eyes met icy blue, and Kuma felt a shiver run down his elongated spine. The man’s eyes were predatory, filled with years of hatred and scorn all directed at Kuma and Kuma alone. He realized that he couldn’t find the will to move or look away, he was far too entranced by the Hunter’s intense gaze.

Time came crashing back down on Kuma as Mizuku ducked back behind a boulder to avoid being shot at, Kuma finally setting his plan into action in order to take out the opposing general and hopefully gain an advantage over the Hunters.

Kuma spread his wings and took off into the sky. As he approached the rock he knew Mizuku was behind, Kuma began to rain fire down onto the rock, only pausing in his attempts to charr the stone once he was nearly at the boulder.

He barreled towards Mizuku’s hiding place at a terrifying speed, his white, dark pink, and light pink wings spread wide on each side of his body. Before Kuma knew what was happening, Major General Mizuku Rashiko was standing up and firing his musket pistol right at him. Kuma had little time to react and couldn’t switch directions as he was already barreling right towards his doom. The musket ball tore through his right wing, leaving Kuma to flail uselessly as the hard ground came ever closer until he finally impacted with the hard rocky soil, rolling a few times from momentum. The pain ricocheted throughout his entire body, Kuma’s uninjured wing flailing about as he attempted to stand before collapsing from the excruciating pain that danced across his nerve-endings. The Dragon let out a pained growl as he huffed for air, eyes falling closed all the while. The sound of approaching footfalls had Kuma’s sharp eyes snapping open to survey whoever dared approach the downed dragon.

“You are dead,” a silky voice caressed Kuma’s ears before he followed it to its source and discovered that it was Mizuku who spoke, towering over him with a pistol held to Kuma’s white head. Kuma’s eyes fell closed, defeat plundering any hope he had of survival and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. This was not how Kuma had wanted it to end, but one didn’t exactly choose when and where they wished to die and so, it had only been a matter of time. Kuma just wished that he could have spoken to little MacQuarrie one last time.

A gunshot sounded loudly but Kuma did not feel the impact of a musket ball or the sharp flare of pain that normally followed, he opened his eyes to see why.

Before Mizuku could pull the trigger, someone else had fired on him instead, causing the Hunter to fall to the ground next to Kuma in a pool of his own blood. There the two of them would lay behind a large boulder completely hidden from view long after the skirmish had ended and both sides had retreated from the battlefield. Kuma was in and out of consciousness for sometime until he finally regained enough consciousness to be aware of his surroundings and the fact that the body of the man he deemed his arch nemesis lay right beside him, sticky with his own blood.

Kuma groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position. His head was killing him and he felt very dizzy. When he tried to stand on all four legs, his body swayed and his legs threatened to buckle, but Kuma stubbornly stayed put even as his body protested madly until eventually he found his balance and managed to stay standing. Being in his dragon form was no longer beneficial to him as he could not speak, and with the injury to his wing, flying was not a viable option any longer, not that he’d be able to fly straight with how much his head ached. Kuma was quick to shift back to his human form, hand flying out to find purchase on the boulder beside him so that he would not crumple to the ground as a new wave of dizziness and nausea overwhelmed him. Once he was certain he would not collapse, Kuma removed his hand from the large stone and took a few steps towards the lifeless form of his enemy, Mizuku. At first he appeared dead, but upon closer inspection, Kuma noted his shallow breathing and violent shaking. The man was very much alive, Kuma just wasn’t sure if he would be for much longer.

“I hoped you would be dead by now, but it seems this really isn’t my day today.” The fallen hunter choked out, eyes weakly fluttering open to glare accusingly at Kuma.

“The feeling is mutual,” Kuma glared back just as intensely. He found his strength failing him as his feet came out from under him and he ended up propped against the slightly charred rock Mizuku had been hiding behind only an hour or so prior.

“I’d kill you if I could,” Mizuku coughed out between mouthfuls of blood. His pistol still sat snuggling in his hand, but it was obvious he did not have the strength to take aim and fire, he probably wasn’t even capable of loading the gun and igniting the gun powder.

“Oh shut it. You couldn’t even hurt a fly in your state and I have no patience to listen to you rattle on about how much you hate me and want me dead.” Kuma said dismissively as his eye roamed over the man’s bloodied form, attempting to locate where the blood was coming from. His eyes were drawn to where Mizuku’s hand clutched loosely at his side, blood spilling from between his long, thin fingers.

“Besides, you’ll probably die before me judging from the amount of blood you’re loosing,” Kuma said as he leaned back to rest his head against the boulder. They were both in terrible condition and most definitely not going anywhere anytime soon, so Kuma decided to simply settle in and wait. Eventually his troops would come back to collect the bodies of fallen soldiers which in turn meant they would find him and bring him back to safety.

For the first hour, they both stubbornly refused to acknowledge each other, choosing instead to gaze out upon the bloodied and tarnished land of the battlefield. It was Kuma who, heaving a sigh of defeat, finally broke the deafening silence.

“While we’re here on the verge of death, we might as well get to know each other, don’t you think?” All Kuma got in return was an icy glare that promised death if he continued speaking.

“I must ask, as I’ve never been this close to a Hunter without them trying to kill me, why? What compels you to slaughter my kind when we shifters have done absolutely nothing deserving of death.”

“Your people are monsters!” Mizuku seethed.

“Then you truly know nothing about my people,” Kuma grit back.

“My parents are dead because of your kind.”

“And mine are dead because of yours.” Silence met Kuma’s harshly spoken quip, Mizuku simply turning his head from Kuma so that he could stare out at the burning field littered with bodies. Kuma’s glare remained for some time until finally his features softened and he gazed at Mizuku with something akin to sympathy. Mizuku may have been his mortal enemy, but Kuma knew what it felt like to lose the ones closest to you and he wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on even his worst enemy.

Nothing else was said between the two as they sat in an almost mournful silence. At one point Kuma thought the man laying to his right had died because of how still and silent he was, but then he noticed the faint rise and fall of his chest and realized that he was still very much alive and kicking.

Eventually, the battlefield became alive once more as the shifters went about collecting fallen allies and counting up the casualties. All Kuma had to do was wave his arm and then Nikaraga was dropping from the sky and landing right in front of Kuma.

“Kuma! Thank goodness you are alive!” Nikaraga rejoiced, but his joy quickly turned to concern once he noticed all the blood coating Kuma’s face from where he had banged his head during the fall.

“Come, lets get you back so that a doctor can look you over,” Nikaraga was gentle as he grabbed ahold of Kuma and pulled him into his arms before taking off into the sky once more with one powerful beat of his speckled wings. As they glided through the wind currents, Kuma couldn’t help but look back at Mizuku who was so bloodied and still that Nikaraga probably mistook him for a corpse. Kuma probably would have thought the same were it not for the fact that they had probably spent close to three hours together, waiting for either rescue or death.

~-~

“He has a concussion, a twisted ankle, three broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, but nothing too life-threatening otherwise.” The doctor, Dras Takayama, read off his sheet of paper with an emotionless and drained tone of voice. The poor man was clearly tired from preforming far too many emergency procedures and life-saving miracles, so Kuma wasn’t very surprised out how zombie-like the doctor appeared.

“Thank you, doctor Takayama. You should go get some rest.” Kuma may have phrased it like a request, but Dras knew he meant it as an order.

“Yes sir, ” Dras grunted before turning and walking out the door. It was a testament to just how tired the gruff doctor was when he actually obeyed Kuma immediately without an argument as opposed to the normal fight Kuma would have to get into with the stubborn workaholic of a doctor.

“We were worried about you,” Silvious said from where he stood in the corner of the room.

“Well don’t be, I’m fine. My hide is stronger than steel.” Kuma said as he moved to stand up, but Nikaraga pushed him back down.

“You are still injured, young man! You are to lay here in this bed until the doctor grants you a clean bill of health!” Kuma sighed but complied, better to listen than face the wrath of his best friend.


	3. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuma meets with Mizuku under the discretion of night as they learn to see past their differences. Kuma gets a letter from Hana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I literally just finished writing this chapter only an hour or so prior to now so things might be a little messy or confusing but I did proofread it and do some revisions so hopefully not.
> 
> Once again, I do not have a beta reader nor do I allow anyone other than you guys and myself to read this so I apologize for whatever mistakes there are.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

During the first few months under Kuma’s command, General Porris made himself considerably sparse. Only thrice had the two crossed paths, the first time to formally change command, the second at an important meeting, and a third time wholly on accident when Kuma had come looking for Aide-de-camp Rory Worths and found Scar instead. The fourth time they spoke was entirely intentional on Scar’s part.

“Good morning, commander, how’s the wing?” Scar said as he entered the infirmary where Kuma was still being held after his brush with a certain blue-eyed general.

“It’s healing right up thanks to our rather skilled medic.” Kuma shot the aforementioned doctor a toothy grin, who responded in kind by scoffing and knocking Kuma on the head with the tool he had been peacefully cleaning in the corner of the room only moments prior.

“You wouldn’t even be in my infirmary if you didn’t go charging headfirst into danger at every opportunity,” Dras scolded Kuma similarly to how one would a petulant child. Dras was only allowed to do that to his superior officer when the dragon recklessly landed himself in sick-bay, though it fortunately only happened every so often. Kuma just grinned at the grumpy medic, infuriating the man even further. Pestering the medic had been Kuma’s only form of entertainment during the past week spent confined to a bed upon Dras’s insistence.

“What are you even doing here, sir?” Dras finally turned his attention on the wolf-shifter perched in one of the chairs near the recuperating commander.

“I hear some of the troops got into a brawl with a bear-shifter. It’s pretty safe to assume that they require medical assistance.” Scar drawled, watching as anger flared on the medics face before he was rushing out the door with his medical kit, grumbling under his breath about how this was the fourth time this week that a fight had broken out and that he was going to bury them in the dirt kicking and screaming if any of them were severely injured. The two generals watched him go with twin grins of amusement before Scar turned back to face Kuma.

“He’s quite the medic, is he not?” Scar said with a fond smile as he leaned back in his chair, his long sharp claws digging into the armrest and leaving deep gouges in the wood.

“The best of his profession, a miracle worker even.” Kuma agreed, carefully taking note of the sharp claws tearing into the wood like it was paper.

“Yes, of course.” Scar smiled wide as he leaned forward until he was only a foot or two away from Kuma‘s face, his mouthful of razor-sharp teeth being openly displayed and putting Kuma on edge.

“But you should know something very important: He’s  _ mine _ and I don’t share.” He snarled the last sentence with a throaty growl, showing just how animalistic he could be, “don’t even think about touching what's mine.”

Kuma nodded once, his eyes narrowing to slits as he recognized the threat in the wolf's tone. With his battered condition, Kuma feared he might not come out on top so he was clear with his body language to show he would not fight if he did not have to, not to mention the fact that Kuma had no interest in taking what Scar thought as his.

Scar leaned back with a smile, “I think we’re going to get along just fine,” Was the last thing Scar said before finally taking his leave with a respectful nod and the swish of his long coat.

~-~

Kuma spent another week on medical leave before their resident medic had finally allowed him back onto active duty. Kuma felt like the doctor was being purposely cruel and spiteful as payback for Kuma being such a terrible patient, but Kuma felt his impatience was justified. Who else was going to lead? Right now they were all struggling to breathe under the smothering of the hunters that wanted nothing more than to suffocate them and claim victory over this crucial plot of land. If the shifters were to lose the Pitfalls, then they would also lose the war, which would then lead to the mass genocide of all shifter-kind. Kuma wasn’t going to let that happen if he could help it.

Only a day after he was given medical clearance to fight and go out into the field did another skirmish occur. Kuma and a group of eight others, including Silvious and Sally, had been out scouting to see if they could locate the cart full of supplies they had asked for weeks ago that still had not arrived. Kuma was certain that this time their letter had finally been received as he had personally escorted the foot soldier carrying the letters to ensure he was not ambushed, killed, and robbed of his imperative letters, but it seemed that they were going to have an equally difficult time actually receiving the requested supplies. When they finally made it to the edge of the forest, they were all surprised, relieved, and ecstatic to note the wagon parked next to a fire as a young man prodded the flames with a stick.

“You haven’t been waiting long I hope,” Kuma said, still slightly disbelieving of the man’s state of living.

“Not long, only an hour or so. I waited near the edge as per instructed in the letter, though I must ask, why?” He stood from his crouched position and gave Kuma a curious look.

“I’m afraid these woods are positively crawling with hunters; you’d be dead before you even made it three steps into the forest,” the poor boy shrunk back nervously. It was obvious he was quite young, maybe sixteen at most, and Kuma felt much pity for him as Kuma recalled his own young naivety when he first joined the shifter ranks and watched as everyone he knew was torn to pieces.

“Come now, we’ve a long way to go before we reach the base.” Kuma didn’t have to wonder long about how the cart had made its way here without any creature to pull it because the boy quickly shifted to his horse form and began pulling the cart forward by pressing his sturdy chest to the metal bar in front of the wagon. The rest of them moved to each side of the cart as they began walking.

It didn’t take long for an ambush to begin as they passed through a particularly thick part of the forest where the path narrowed and shrubbery crowded close, blanketing them in murky darkness as the canopy high above blocked out the sun. The hunters easily surrounded them with their superior numbers, but Kuma and his group of veteran front-liners were quick to lash out to keep the hunters from tightening their vice-like hold until they could no longer fight their way out and flee.

Kuma violently lashed out with his sword, slashing at the hunter closest to him before he jumped back to avoid becoming impaled on the hunter's sword. His recently healed wings flared open wide behind him as he used his backward momentum to twist around and cut into the hunter attempting to assault him from behind. Another came charging forward, but Kuma jumped away in time, propelling himself with his wings but not quite flying. He and Silvious ended up almost back to back as they guarded the cart and the soldier pulling it. The path ahead was blocked by hunters but Kuma decided to change that.

“Hansen!” Kuma called as he raced forward, the stout woman joining him moments after to assist in clearing the road of pesky hunters. Kuma’s blade made contact with flesh before Sally was leaping from the ground and onto said hunters back, slashing at the man’s throat before hopping off his back and sprinting into the throng of hunters. Kuma barely dodged a musket ball headed right for his head as he chased after the fearless fish-shifter, sword cutting through the crowd as he passed. Kuma was stopped short when a sharp blade was suddenly right in front of his face, managing to cut into his cheek before he slid to a stop and jolted backwards with a start. When he turned to survey who held the blade, Kuma froze as startled red met frigid blue.

“Foolish dragon.” A knee connected with Kuma’s back and then a foot to the back of his leg all in quick succession, which left him on his hands and knees, desperate for air, and reeling from what just happened.

“You are dead again.” The cool metal of Mizuku’s pistol pressed against the side of Kuma’s head, giving the shifter pause.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Just as quickly as Kuma had ended up on his knees did he flip their positions, Mizuku suddenly on his back with his own flintlock pistol pressed against the curve of his skull.

Mizuku huffed, struggling against Kuma’s hold before settling under the threat of the pistol.

“Tonight, at midnight, meet me where one becomes two at the River Kraken. I wish to talk.” Kuma knew he’d be in a great deal of trouble if anyone were to learn of this, but he could not help it. He was as curious and enchanted as he was cautious and afraid.

“Why would I ever want to speak with the likes of you!” The huntsman growled, more than a little peeved about his current predicament.

“Whoever said you did? No one is being coerced, I assure you,” Kuma pulled away just enough for Mizuku to free himself easily without anyone around them noticing that the dragon had let him go. Mizuku punched Kuma in the face to make the escape more believable, and then he was gone within seconds, leaving Kuma disorientated as he recovered from the blow. When Kuma stood from the ground and looked around, he noticed that the hunters were carrying out a swift retreat, the shifters fortunately only sustaining minor injuries from the skirmish.

With the hunter's temporary defeat, the rest of the journey back to base was relatively easy and uneventful. As they were unloading the desperately desired supplies, the young man from earlier that had brought the wagon of supplies came running up to Kuma, his fingers curled protectively around two crisp envelopes.

“Sir! You’re Kuma Sabiston, right?” At Kuma’s nod, he continued, “these are for you, sir.” He handed Kuma the two envelopes before hurrying away with a respectful nod. The first letter was from MacQuarrie while the second was from commander Hana himself. Kuma was quick to departure from the cart that was still being unloaded in order to find somewhere secluded to read.

||  Dear Kuma Sabiston,

It has been a great many months since our last conversation and I wish for nothing more than to hear from you. How are you doing, my friend? What condition is the encampment in? I often worry when the days pass by and yet I still hear nothing from you. This is the sixth letter I have sent and yet not a single word! I’ve heard that letters are difficult to send where you are because of the many dangers those carrying the letters must face, but it appears even worse than I thought. My hope is that you have made some progress chasing the hunters from the Pitfalls, though, I do not expect this to be the case. Here things only seem to worsen as time passes. Commander Raphael L. Lenore is a vicious man whom I fear may outwit myself one of these days. It was only a fortnight prior that I had thought myself a dead man in the face of his righteous fury. His aim with a firearm is rivaled by no one, but fortunately, we shifters have many advantages to allow us a slight edge over the Huntsmen. I hope that we win this war, my friend, for I do not know what we will do if we don’t.

—your friend and commander, Pierre A. Hana. ||

||  Dear big brother, Ms Vida has been teaching me lots of things. She’s helping me right now. Today I went to the river with Greta and Harry and Andy and we fished but I didn’t catch one. Greta gave me one of hers so I wouldn’t be sad. Vida says it’s okay to be sad sometimes but I really miss you and that makes me sad. I don’t like being sad it doesn’t feel good. She said you're coming back but you also said Gavvy and Bubba were coming back a long time ago but they still haven’t and I miss them. I miss you too. Please come back soon Koo.

—MacQuarrie. ||

Kuma felt an overwhelming wave of sadness, hopelessness, and guilt upon reading his brother’s letter. At that moment, he wished above all else that he had never left MacQuarrie alone while he went off to fight what felt like an endless war against practically unbeatable enemies who’s only desire was to crush all shifter-kind underfoot. The truth is, Kuma was scared. The shifters could only scrape up a couple thousand soldiers at most while the hunters easily managed over a hundred thousand troops with a couple hundred to spare. The shifters were barely getting by as the hunters effortlessly trapped them underfoot, leaving them outgunned, outmaneuvered, outnumbered, and out-planned. The war had already been terribly hopeless from the start, but now they were facing their own annihilation and quickly marching towards their doom. All Kuma really wanted was to go back to the days before he joined the war effort, when his older brothers were still here and his parents weren’t dead; when they were happy and Kuma’s only worries were about impressing the boy he liked. Kuma’s memories of his time spent with Sean were bittersweet. Every time he thought of Sean, Kuma would feel tears welling up as he recalled just how Sean had betrayed him, how every moment spent with his childhood crush had the agony gripping tighter and tearing his heart out all over again. But then he’d begin to think about all the good memories spent with Sean as his companion, focusing solely on the parts of their time together where Kuma could only smile, the tears now running down his face for an entirely different reason.

He missed being close to Sean in the way that only they had been. Kuma felt loved and validated every time he had hung out with the human, the human that knew exactly what he was and still continued to love him for who he was. Of course, it had all been a lie to gain Kuma’s trust, but Kuma still missed what he had with Sean, even if it had been fake. Maybe his longing for what he no longer had was what drove Kuma to seek out Mizuku. Why he had recklessly asked to see the Huntsman tonight without fear of consequence certainly had to have been a direct result of Sean.

“Sir? I was told to come fetch you for a medical examination.” A young boy said as the door to Kuma’s office creaked open, revealing his sheepish gaze as he quietly apologized for disturbing Kuma when he was clearly busy.

“it’s alright, Lieutenant Miyagawa.” Kuma accepted the apology easily enough, setting down the letters and following the boy to the infirmary. Lieutenant Dainama Miyagawa was a promising young man with kind green eyes and a friendly, polite smile. He served as Dras’s medical assistant and usually did everything the CMO was too busy to do himself.

“If you would.” Dainama motioned to one of the unoccupied medical cots, Kuma easily catching on and settling himself atop the white sheets. Dainama warned Kuma before he reached out to run his fingers down the length of Kuma’s wings that faded from white to pink, his hands gentle as he extended the wing as far as it would go so he could get a better look at the tear in the wing. Kuma shuddered but gave no other reaction to the delicate touch.

“You seem distant, like you’re miles away from here,” Dainama commented offhandedly as he applied pressure to the fissure with his thin digits, a look of pure concentration enveloping his young features.

“Just...thinking about the past and wondering about the future,” Kuma replied, still unable to take his mind off of the letters and his offer to Mizuku even now. pain flared from his agitated wound as Dainama applied some kind of healing salve to the painful tear of his wing.

“Well, you have your whole life ahead of you, why waste your future focusing on the past that you can’t change when you could be using that time to change your future for the better.” Dainama only seemed to realize what he was saying and who he was saying it to after the fact, adding a belated, “sir,” with a flushed face and embarrassed eyes.

“I think you’ve been hanging around Nikaraga too much.” Kuma breathed a laugh, his eyes filling with mirth as he gazed upon the embarrassed wolf-shifter.

“Maybe,” Dainama admitted with a small, hesitant smile as he began wrapping the damaged parts of the wing with gauze, Kuma’s laughter being interrupted by a hiss of pain where the gauze rubbed against the open wound.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The last of the check-up passed rather quickly in silence, Dainama finishing up his work and sending Kuma on his way with a warning to be careful so as not to aggravate the wound any further. Kuma agreed to be extra careful, but Dainama didn’t seem entirely convinced, already knowing he’d be seeing Kuma back in here very soon.

Kuma walked down the halls, entering his office and sitting down heavily into his rickety old chair with a sigh matching the weight of his dramatic seating. What was he doing fraternizing with the enemy? Kuma must’ve lost his mind, but he couldn’t really say he minded all that much when butterflies filled his stomach whenever he thought of the aloof general. He felt ridiculous, like a teenager crushing on someone for the first time; he could not stop the giddy excitement he felt at the prospect of seeing Mizuku again even if he had wanted to. But the thing is, he  _ didn’t _ want to. He liked the way it felt, like a warm blanket on a cold night, or a lazy night spent huddled up by the hearth nursing a mug of warm liquid as the fire crackled familiarly in front of you. It was warmth, cozy, and sweet, and everything Kuma had ever wanted. With his mind made up, Kuma stood from the chair with far more grace than he had Sat, threw on his long brown trench coat, and snuck out of headquarters in order to rendezvous at the agreed-upon location.

Upon his arrival at River Kraken, Kuma settled next to the water on the shifters side of the river. There was an unspoken agreement between man and monster that to cross the river was to plead for your death. The river got its name from the fact that it appeared rather similar to the tentacles of a large beastly squid, or more aptly, the great sea monster known as the Kraken. River Kraken started as only one but then split into two rivers that lead out to sea, a small plot of neutral land being found between. This was why Kuma had wanted to meet here. Unless the Hunters were presently looking for a fight, Kuma was almost entirely safe here unless he crossed the river, or both rivers, and stepped onto the land that was considered Hunter territory. The only other danger to Kuma was Mizuku himself and whatever decision he chose to make. Kuma could do nothing to stop the Huntsman from tipping off the others and bringing a group of hunters to slaughter Kuma. He was really risking it by putting his faith in Mizuku, but he hoped that he had made the right decision.

The minutes ticked by, Kuma’s worry growing substantially as he was left to stew in his worry, wondering if this had even been worth it. Finally, after an agonizingly long wait, the near-silent rustling of leaves and the falling of footsteps sounded directly across from Kuma before Mizuku revealed himself, stopping on the other side of the river.

Wordlessly, they both entered the frigid water, crossing over to the neutral plot of land that once stood between them but now brought them closer together.

“Mizuku,” Kuma whispered from where he stood, shivering as water dripped from his waterlogged clothing and pooled beneath his feet. The intensity in Mizuku’s cerulean eyes had Kuma gasping for breath, his own pink hues widening as Mizuku stepped forward, tilted his chin up, and smashed their lips together. His lips were fire compared to Kuma’s already blueing one’s from his relatively brief dip into the icy river water. Despite the aching cold found throughout his body, Kuma found that he did not care.

_ This had most definitely been worth it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m probably going to write out the sex scene that’s supposed to come after this and post it as it’s own separate little thing so if you’re interested in that, stay tuned I guess.
> 
> Have an exquisite day my lovely reader!


	4. Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to know Mizuku a little bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I apologize for the considerable amount of time between this upload and the last. I had the flu.
> 
> Anyways, here’s the newest chapter! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Oh and, there are mentions of sex all throughout this chapter, but it’s not very detailed or explicit so I wouldn’t worry if that makes you uncomfortable or something.

“Why am I not surprised?” Dras drawled upon noticing Kuma sat on one of the medical cots with Dainama stood over him, tending to Kuma’s re-torn wing tendons.

Kuma could only offer a sheepish look and a half-baked apology to the chief medical officer and his assistant.

“Have you ever tried just once in your life to stay out of trouble?” Dras huffed, appearing rather miffed as he stormed over to Kuma in order to check on the wound. He was far rougher than strictly necessary when he gripped the edge of Kuma’s wing and forced the folds apart so that the entire wing was visible, a frown on his lips as he surveyed the deep lacerations.

“What were you even doing to reopen your wounds like this?” If anything, Dras’s frown only grew the longer he stared at Kuma’s injuries. The tear on Kuma’s wing had been bad before, bad enough that Dras didn’t think it would be able to support his weight during flight, but now the tear stretched all the way down his wing and only stopped once it reached the cartilage at the very top of his wing that gave it its shape.

“Um...I...fell?” Kuma sounded like he was asking a question more than saying a statement, clearly caught off guard without an answer already prepared to tell the grouchy medic.

“Bullshit.” The doctor called him out, roving his gaze over the entirety of Kuma before a knowing grin twitched at the corners of his lips.

“You had sex, didn’t you?”

“What? No, I didn’t!”

“Oh come on, who was it?”

“No one!”

“really? I didn’t take you for the shy type.”

“Oh, shut up.” Kuma looked away from the doctor, cheeks warm as he recalled his time spent with Mizuku only a night prior.

_ “Mizuku.” _

_ Blue clashed with red, melding together in the most intimate of ways; a dance of seduction in its most carnal form. _

_ “Mizu.” _

_ Taloned hands made their way down flushed skin, scraping, cutting, tearing as mutual pleasure overwhelmed them. They maneuvered seamlessly together, symbiotic in their movements if not for the hindering of torn fabric swathing their heated bodies. _

_ “Mizu!” _

_ Warmth. It encased their very beings, taking them, filling them, until it was all they knew. More. They wanted more. The shallow rocking was no longer enough, desire burning within their veins as the intensity increased. _

“General Rashiko!” Mizuku blinked, looking up from the window to belatedly address his peer who stood in front of his seat, blonde curls rustling as the man leaned down to place a warm palm across Mizuku’s shoulder.

“I’ve been calling your name for far longer than is normally necessary, are you alright?”

“Yes, I apologize, General Conway, I’m fine.” Mizuku bowed his head apologetically, finally giving the man his full attention.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, of course. I was merely lost in thought.” Mizuku knew the man did not have it in him to feel anything but disregard for anyone but himself, and he likely would’ve told the addlepate to get out of his face with a less than friendly snarl, if not for the rabble surrounding them.

“Well, I have a letter from Commander Lenore.” The fair-haired male thrust his hands towards Mizuku, holding out a parcel of paper to Mizuku. Mizuku moved his gaze down to the envelope clutched carefully between the general’s fingers, frown deepening as he took the offered envelope. He examined the wax seal with growing contempt as he stalked off to read the letter in the privacy of the empty hallway just outside the boisterous mess hall.

Mizuku only broke the seal once the doors closed firmly behind his tall, harrowing form, dark eyes scaring away those who still lingered in the hallway. He read the loopy cursive with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips and painting his countenance in a disdained light, feet beginning to pace up and down the hallway as he read the commanders full letter.

A sigh left him as he paused in front of one of the many windows, thinking of how best to respond to the formidable commander who was not so easily pleased when Mizuku’s reports continued to detail the situation as, more or less, a standoff between both parties that had yet to waver or resolve. His unfocused gaze met his own reflection, his right hand sliding up to finger at the side of the neck where he knew the bruises from when Kuma had sucked at the flesh would most definitely be. His hand moved lower to place a ghost of a caress over one of the many scratches across his back.

Honestly, it looked almost as though Mizuku had been attacked by a vicious beast, What with all the red marks across his back from Kuma’s sharp nails, but Mizuku hardly regretted the previous night. Maybe he should regret it, maybe guilt should be clawing insistently at his insides for sleeping with the enemy —and a high-ranking officer of all things!— but Mizuku didn’t feel any of that. He felt content in a way he hadn’t in a long time and more than eager to see the albino dragon once again. They promised to meet in the same place at the same time tonight and it kept Mizuku distracted all day as he waited for night to fall.

Mizuku used to think often of his deceased parents, focusing on their day of murder and allowing it to fuel his hatred for the Shifters. For a time, he allowed it to consume him. It became everything that he was as he fought to avenge them, to right what was made wrong, and to punish the shifters for what they had done to his family. He recalls that last day with them in such vivid memory, allowing the seething rage to fester underneath his skin as he relived those last moments again and again.

_ “Mama, there’s a strange man at the door.” _

_ “It’s alright, dear, papa will handle it.” _

Mizuku recalls that night vividly; he remembers feeling frightened when first seeing the creature, how he hid behind his mother's skirt and peeked out to catch a glimpse of the silhouette talking with his father.

_ “Please help me! I’ve no place to go! All I ask is for somewhere to wait out the storm.” _

_ “We cannot condemn this man to the streets! Not while it pours and rains so heavily!” _

_ “And we shan’t. Please, come in. Have a warm bath to soothe the cold from your skin while my wife finishes supper.” _

Mizuku’s parents were far too friendly, too naive, something that would bring about their downfall.

_ “I do hope this will suffice. All we have is bread and rice.” _

_ “It is more than enough.” _

The stranger's voice was deep and gravely, as though he had swallowed handfuls of glass, a long black cloak obscuring his face and leaving almost nothing but his mouth visible.

“What’s your name, little boy?”

The cloaked figure had said once both Mr. and Mrs. Rashiko had left the table.

_ “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” _

_ “Well, my name is Vladimir. that means I’m not a stranger anymore, right?” _

And how could he, as a child of only seven, refute that logic?

_ “Can I have your name?” _

_ “Mizuku.” _

The grin that spread across the creature's lips would forever haunt Mizuku in both the waking world and the not, along with the words uttered from those dry, cracked lips.

_ “Have you ever seen death before, Mizuku?” _

That man had slaughtered his parents. He likely would’ve done the same to Mizuku had it not been for the two Hunters that burst through the front door and shot the monster down before his claws could tear into Mizuku’s vulnerable neck.

_“It’s alright, sweetling. It’s all over now.” The woman beckoned his trembling form, embracing him in a hug as he sobbed into her shoulder._

_ “Look, this monster, it’s dead.” She pulled him away, nudging him towards the lifeless creature, but he refused to uncover his eyes after being spun around to face the bloody sprawl of bodies. _

_ “LOOK!” He cried harder as the women shouted, that sweet gentle tone leaving her voice and making him readily obey despite wanting to do anything but. _

_ “See that? It’s not a man, it’s a mindless beast parading as a man.” He took in the sight of large furry wolf ears perched in place of normal human ears, dull crimson eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, and sharp fangs protruding past dry, scarred lips. _

_ “It’s a monster, and there are more just like it all over the world. If you stay with us, we’ll protect you and you’ll be safe, okay?” Scarred by what he just witnessed and Soothed by her gentle tone, Mizuku nodded numbly and clung to the women, bawling his eyes out as he hid from the horrors of his dead parents. _

Mizuku was raised into the perfect warrior by that woman and her boyfriend. He was taught how to fight, how to wield a weapon, basic first aid, and everything one needed to survive in the dangerous environment of war. They never truly were regarded by Mizuku as anything more than temporary guardians, but he was grateful for their teachings and used his knowledge well when he joined the hunter militia.

Mizuku was jolted from his quiet musings by the loud slam of the door opening and the sudden burst in sound, laughing and chattering flooding through the open doorway. He turned to see who was exiting the mess hall, neutrality turning bitter once he spotted Michael Conway standing there, his muddy brown eyes meeting Mizuku’s own pale blue hues. Conway’s mouth opened as though to speak, but Mizuku immediately cut him off.

“Write to Lenore a response befitting of our situation that might please him so.” Mizuku strode forward to thrust the now opened letter into the man’s hands before beginning to stalk off silently down the hall.

“And what will you do?” Conway called out to Mizuku’s retreating form, him taking great pride in the frustration clearly gleamed in Conway’s annoying voice.

“That is of no concern to you.” Was the only offered response before Mizuku disappeared completely from view, leaving an indignant Conway in his wake.

Mizuku retreated into the safety of his office, sitting down at his desk piled with letters, documents, and unused foolscap. He retrieved his quill and uncapped his pot of ink, beginning the dreary and much-disdained act of signing hundreds of papers until his fingers were sore and his wrist ached.

~-~

Two fortnights passed with much of the same routine. Mizuku would spend his day eagerly anticipating the night to come before staying out by the river late into the night with Kuma, sometimes talking, sometimes fucking, and sometimes just sitting in perfect silence together, feeling each other’s presence and relaxing into the other as the day that previously weighed them down was lifted and they began to lose themselves in each other. When Mizuku was with Kuma, he often forgot in its entirety: the war, his parent’s death, and that he had even hated the shifters in the first place.

For the first time since he was seven, Mizuku felt happy. Things weren’t perfect, far from it considering the war, but Kuma quickly became the centerpiece of Mizuku’s life and he wanted nothing more than to spend even longer with what he now secretly admitted to be the light of his life. Mizuku felt as though he was an addict and Kuma was the drug, as he could not stay away despite knowing so vividly just how dangerous what they were doing truly was.

Tonight was much the same as the many others before it. Mizuku would say his goodbyes and goodnights before retiring to his private chambers and waiting until it was close to the agreed-upon time before he could quietly slip from his quarters and down the hallway with very few to witness his sneaking about due to the late hour. He slipped past the patrol with ease, only lighting his lantern once he was far enough away to not be spotted. 

He’d made the trek through the dark and the light enough to know his way around the surrounding woods, and easily made it to the spot where two becomes one. Mizuku was normally the first to arrive, as was the case tonight, but he preferred to remain hidden within the tree-line until Kuma arrived simply as a precaution just in case there were other shifters wandering late at night that may potentially spot him.

Mizuku didn’t have to wait long before Kuma finally emerged from the trees on the opposite side of the river. Mizuku would have immediately alerted Kuma of his presence, but he became frozen as his gaze roved over the tiny shifter. 

Kuma was terribly short, something Mizuku only privately admitted to himself to be absolutely adorable. Kuma did not like to be picked up and carried around like “a damsel in distress,” or a, “little fooken child,” as he put it, but Mizuku loved to pick him up because he was so small and fit perfectly within Mizuku’s palms. He’d grumble and complain the whole time, but Mizuku certainly didn’t hear any complaining after he trapped the man against a tree and showed him good and well just how nice it was to be held.

Mizuku loved Kuma’s wings. They were huge, each bigger than Kuma’s lithe body all on their own, and held much poised power within every muscle. They were primarily white, but they also had two different shades of pink coloring the folds of the wings near the bottom edge. Kuma would often wrap the large appendages around them both as they laid together watching the stars or meeting lips in a passionate amalgamation of mutual affection.

Mizuku also loved Kuma’s auburn curls and pretty pink hues, A forest of russet coils framing Kuma’s pale cheeks and enhancing his eyes which seemed to forever shift from a deep crimson to the delicate pink of the peony flower, soft and gentle as Mizuku cups his cheeks and peers into those inquisitive eyes.

Mizuku watched the dragon from his place in the trees, eyes fond as he took in male’s features.  _ Beautiful _ , Mizuku thought as he finally pushed himself away from the tree he was leaned against and took a step forward. He paused when he realized he forgot to grab his lantern, instead turning around to grab the handle of the lantern and raise it into the air. His eyes caught sight of movement further back into the trees, his eyes straining as he attempted to peer into the darkness and confirm that he had really seen something.

Mizuku’s heart almost stopped when he realized what it was, or rather, who.

“Conway.”


	5. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mizuku and Kuma fight. Things are said, feelings are hurt, and trouble is brewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that this chapter is a bit patchy because I wrote a scene from this a while back and I don’t think I merged the old and the new very well. (I wrote a bunch of scenes before I even wrote the first chapter and now I’m slowly incorporating all of the scenes into the story as I go)

“What are you doing here, Conway?” Mizuku demanded, rather frazzled at the man’s sudden appearance here of all places.

“I could ask the same.” Conway crossed his arms, slowly approaching Mizuku with an almost gleefully smug look on his face.

“That’s none of your business.” Mizuku scowled, resorting to his cold exterior and biting words whilst he mentally flailed about trying to calm his rattled nerves. Conway never should have been here, no one was ever supposed to know about this, no one was supposed to see them together. This was bad. This was really fucking bad.

“Ah ah ah, I don’t think so. If you’re not careful, I might just tell the commander you’ve been fraternizing with those disgusting  _ freaks _ . They’ll hang you for that, you know?” Conway’s smile grew wider the longer he spoke, clearly knowing he had Mizuku backed into a corner. Conway was the type of person who would leap at any opportunity to gain power over others, his greedy little self simply could not resist the temptation of power.

“You’re an idiot if you think I would ever want to be anywhere near those monstrous aberrations,” Mizuku said with a sneer, doing his best to convince the man he was wrong in his accusations. Mizuku saw the beginnings of Conway’s resolve faltering, clearly unsure after Mizuku’s heated response.

“Then what are you doing here at so late an hour?”

“I was merely patrolling.”

“You’re not on the night duty roster.”

“Does that matter? I am a Major General, I answer to no one but commander Lenore and I can put myself on whatever duty roster I so please.” Mizuku snapped back in an almost chastising tone of voice, as though Conway was in the wrong for even suspecting Mizuku to be a traitor.

“Then what were you doing just sitting here watching that monster?” Conway seemed to be grasping at whatever straws he could reach, desperate to dig up some kind of dirt on Mizuku that would give him the power to overthrow Mizuku’s firm command. They may have been equal in rank, but Conway knew their commander-in-chief favored the Japanese man over himself, which is precisely why Mizuku was the one who called the shots, and Conway was just his assistant in a sense.

“I wanted to see if he would cross the river onto our side.” The lies came easier once Mizuku had regained his regal elegance and the confidence needed to pull off the great feat of lying to a man like Conway.

“It seems this one is not so foolish,” Mizuku added with a glance back to where Kuma sat perched next to the river, completely oblivious to what was going on as he swirled his fingers in the water absentmindedly.

“I’m going back. You may follow me as I know you will no matter what I say, after all, you’re just like a lost little puppy who’ll do anything for acknowledgment and affection.” Mizuku could already picture the face Conway was making as he brushed past the man and stalked off into the forest in the opposite direction of river Kraken. Mizuku imagines he probably felt shocked for a moment, his mouth hanging open as he stared after Mizuku’s retreating frame, before the anger would consume his features and he would quietly glower at Mizuku’s back as they headed back to headquarters together.

Mizuku felt guilt beginning to claw at his insides as he headed back to headquarters. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to Kuma’s side, but he knew Conway would see, and then commander Lenore would know, and then Mizuku would likely be hung for treason. Or sodomy. The point is, despite how much it ate at him, Mizuku had no choice but to stand Kuma up and make him wait for something that simply was not going to happen tonight. Mizuku had spent all day eagerly anticipating tonight, but now it seemed to all be for nothing as he listened to the clumsy steps of Conway behind him.

As Mizuku continued to walk back to headquarters, he thought about what the Shifters would do to Kuma if they ever found out about the two of them. They’d likely hang Kuma or throw him in a cell to rot before inevitably having his head chopped off. Mizuku would not be able to live with himself if Kuma was hurt or killed because of him. Mizuku would never allow that to happen, damn the consequences because Kuma was more than his lover, he was more than his everything, he was the very air Mizuku breathed. He gave Mizuku a purpose, a meaning, a reason to live.

Mizuku could not let anything happen to him, that’s why Mizuku knew what he needed to do, despite how much he truly did not want to.

~-~

The frosted night air was harsh on his lungs, the cold nipping at his button nose and turning his cheeks a faint pink as he trekked through the forest with only the light of the full moon to guide him. He did not bring a lantern this time, as Mizuku was far more paranoid about being seen than he had been previously. He took extra precautions to be certain no one was following him, even to the point of leaving false tracks leading away from where he was truly headed to throw off any who were potentially following in the shadows of the forest.

When he arrived at the river, Kuma was already there, waiting anxiously by the edge of the water as he searched for Mizuku with his blood-red eyes, worry showing in his features as his eyes flickered across the tree line where Mizuku was carefully hidden behind the bark of a thick tree trunk.

Mizuku felt frozen in place as he watched Kuma, emotions welling as he took in all of Kuma’s features with careful eyes, committing every detail to memory before he forced himself to continue.

“Mizu! You’re alright!” Kuma’s eyes lit up light Christmas lights when he caught sight of his figure emerging from the trees, the love in his pretty hues making Mizuku’s chest feel painfully tight.

Mizuku was silent as he crossed over to the island of land in the middle of the split river, footsteps light as the breeze as he walked across the large fallen tree they had been using as a makeshift bridge to get across. Kuma met him in the middle, concern flashing in his expressive eyes as he closed the distance and reached out to take Mizuku’s hand in a thoughtless gesture of affection they had both done countless times before.

“You didn’t come yesterday. Did something happen?” Kuma said as he gripped the human’s hand within his own calloused fingers. Mizuku shrugged off Kuma’s grip, turning away from him to stare into the crystal water splashing gently as it flowed down the riverbed to eventually merge into the sea.

“We can’t continue this,” Mizuku said after a beat of silence.

“What are you talking about?”

“You heard me. It’s over. We need to go our separate ways.”

Kuma furrowed his brows, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Mizuku’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” Mizuku sneered, shrugging off his touch.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Shut up.”

“Mizu...”

“Don’t call me that! We’re not friends, I don’t like you. I was only interested in the sex, but now, it’s lost its appeal.” Mizuku said coldly.

“Oh come on. That’s fucking bullshit.” Now Kuma was angry. Good.

“Stop pretending to know how I feel.” Mizuku seethed, shoving at Kuma’s shoulders.

“Then stop pretending you’re just some emotionless husk, you fucker,” Kuma growled, shoving at Mizuku just as hard.

“I don’t care about you! I was using you!” Mizuku shouted in Kuma’s face. Kuma was silent for a while, the beginnings of tears pooling in the corner of each eye. Understanding seemed to shine in those red hues, and Mizuku felt bare underneath his intense gaze, as though Kuma could see his most well-kept secrets.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Kuma said.

“You don’t know that.” The tears came quick and swift, his expression darkened with despair.

“But you also don’t know. Why do we have to end? Why here?” His eyes were pleading, downcast in their sadness as he pleaded with the other male.

“Because I’m supposed to hate you!” His voice raised in volume, cracking with intensity as his hands shoved against the other’s chest, pushing him back as a form of defense. His last stand, “You’re a vile monster, a beast to be hunted down, not some — not a lover. We were never supposed to be intimate in the way that we are, it is  wrong .”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late to feel remorse?” He kept his tone steady, just above a whisper, as his gentle grip came up to once more rest upon the other’s pale flesh. He cupped the other’s chin in his hold and applied pressure in order to force the other’s gaze from the deep blue water and instead to his face. “You cannot take it back. no matter what you do, you’ll still be hanged.”

“If we end this now, no one will ever know.”The man jerked his arm from the others hold, fighting his desire for the intimacy they once shared.

“What if I don’t want to!? What if I’m in love with you!?” The words slipped out in a fit of uncontrollable, raw emotion. Tears began to streak his cheeks but he paid the wetness no mind, didn’t even seem to notice he was crying as he carried on, ever the valiant soldier, “Mizuku,  _ please _ ,” his tone was pleading, desperation painting every crevice of his features.

“Kuma...” Mizuku called softly from his place by the riverbank. He reached out, seemingly wanting to take the other in hand, but ultimately stopping short as that same hand dropped back to his side. 

“I’m sorry.” Both men stood in perfect stillness, the quiet seeming to echo louder than any cannon or any other sound of war.

The War, it had been raging on for countless years now. Kuma has been an ever-vigilant General of the war since the very beginning, Mizuku was a general of the war from the other side. They were never meant to cross paths, save for the bloody battlefields and scorched combative grounds. Of course, their love was never meant to be, of course, they were supposed to hate each other—and they did at first—but then they learned more about the other, grew closer despite their differences. It wasn’t long before things escalated from meager acquaintanceship to full-blown romantic involvement.

In the eyes of society, they were in the wrong. A crime they committed, the dance so sinful, hanging is their would-be punishment if anyone were to know the truth of their involvement. And that’s only the beginning of an endless list of consequences. What they are is treason, for opposing leaders to have such a tangled involvement would be unforgivable. They would face charges of treachery, of perfidy, Duplicity. Worst of all, they would be hanged for the act of homosexuality.

“Is — is what we are so wrong, as to deny us the basic rights of humanity? Is the way I feel for you, so vile that I should be stripped of my title and hung like nothing more than that of a  _ deserter _ or a  _ murderer _ ?” He swallowed, Kuma’s eyes whirring with unguarded emotions as he began to tremble with barely concealed frustration, sorrow found it’s way into the mess of his glossy eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Was all Mizuku could say in return. His head fell forward as his shoulders slumped with despair. It took everything in his power not to call out for Kuma—to beg him to stay, to plead that he didn’t mean it and that he never wanted to be separated from the man ever again—even as the sound of cautious footfalls quickly retreated until the only sound that was left was the sound of Mizuku’s sobs. Mizuku fell to his knees shortly thereafter, regretting every word, every excuse he made when faced with Kuma and his kind eyes—those damn eyes and all that they were to Mizuku. He could stare into them for hours, lose himself in the flowing rose-red of his big, round orbs—his love was so gentle and so very  good . The thought that he’d never feel the warmth of the dragon's flesh ever again was almost enough to shatter his heart into a million unidentifiable shards.

“I’m sorry,” Mizuku whispered again, the third time that phrase had escaped his lips in the past hour, he didn’t know what else to say. He just lost the love of his life, and it was all his  _ fault _ .

~-~

That night, Kuma stayed in his personal quarters scratching away at the parchment with his quill until the sky began to light up with the rays of the sun lazily stretching into the sky, chasing away the darkness and leaving only the misty dew from the night before.

His feelings were frazzled, Kuma knowing not what to do now that what he had with Mizuku was no more. Kuma had felt this aching feeling in his chest many times before, he felt it when he found the corpses of his parents laid out on the living room floor, he felt it when he found out that Sean had killed his parents, he felt it when he killed Sean, he felt it when Gavin and Iain ran away, and he felt it when he left MacQuarrie to join the fight against the hunters. In each of these moments, Kuma had lost something, something he had cared deeply about that was irreplaceable, something he valued above all else. This time was no different.

Kuma’s heart felt like it was on fire, scorching his insides and charring his every nerve with bitter pain. It left a bad taste in his mouth and an irritated redness in his eyes, pale cheeks slick with droplets of salty tears as he fought against the pain of losing someone all over again. After Sean, he promised himself that he would never love someone ever again, he told himself that it would only hurt to let someone in, that they would just hurt him as Sean had all those years ago. Now Kuma knew he should’ve listened. Why had he been so stupid? He should’ve known how this would end, it always ended this way when he let someone into his heart.

Kuma ran a shaky hand through his buoyant auburn coils, eyes glossy as he stared with unseeing eyes at his unfinished letter to MacQuarrie. He breathed in a couple of deep breathes to calm himself, rubbing away with his hand the building tears that clung to his lashes and spilled down the ivory scales that decorated his cheeks like a constellation of freckles.

The loss of Mizuku was tearing Kuma apart, but Kuma knew he could not allow himself to fall apart when so many people were relying on him. He survived much worse than a broken heart, he’d survive just fine now, Kuma thought, reaching out to take his quill in hand once more to finally finish his letter to MacQuarrie.

Kuma’s eyes darkened, heart now cold and full of frost as he pointedly ignored the stabbing pain inside of him. No one was there to see the reckless determination brewing in his small frame, something dangerous glinting in his eyes as he dipped his quill in the inkpot before placing it against the foolscap and scratching swirling syllables onto the parchment.

Trouble was brewing and anyone could see as much.


	6. Anguish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuma is reckless, Nikaraga is hurt, Silvious is furious, and Mizuku regrets never saying a proper goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who’s idea was it to make Ao3’s formatting so gosh darn difficult? This is my third time trying to format this chapter and I am so done with Ao3 right now.
> 
> If you use the rich text: it’ll double space everything. if you use HTML: you can’t add italics or anything. and if you try to switch between the two: it’ll just remove all the spaces as punishment for thinking you can escape it’s wrathful fury.
> 
> Anyways, here it finally is after much expostulation and exhausted rage. I slept like three hours today so I’m gonna go pass out now. Good day, mein freund! I dont know why I said that in German. I don’t even speak German. :/

A month passed since the fated fight between Mizuku and Kuma, the two of them keeping a bitter distance as the war continued to ravage their troops. Autumn was in full swing all around, dry leaves coating the earth in a crunchy layer of fallen orange and brown. The wind was harsh and unforgiving, frigid and dry as it assaulted one's senses and left an uncomfortable burning feeling in one's extremities. Kuma was cold. His teeth chattered together as he huddled further into his woolen coat, shivers wracking up his spine as he puffed warm air against his numb fingers. If Nikaraga were here, he would probably have ordered him off the field, rank be damned, and forced Kuma to take a day of rest and recuperation.

But he wasn’t here. The Barred owl was hauled up in the infirmary recovering from near-fatal wounds that he had received on Kuma’s orders. The guilt burrowed deep in his gut, twisting painfully as a reminder to what his reckless decisions had caused. It was Kuma who was blinded by burning betrayal and wounded in the heart, he was the one who couldn’t cope with heartbreak and took to drowning out the feelings by overworking himself and charging headfirst into battle with reckless abandon and complete disregard for his life.

Nikaraga had chased after him, yelling at him to cease his behavior, he was the one who noticed a gun poised and ready to fire at the wayward dragon, and he was the one who ended up with a bullet lodged in his chest and one wing brutally torn to pieces as he protected Kuma and brought him back to safety completely unharmed. Silvious has been angry, rightfully so, snarling in Kuma’s face that he needed to pull himself together before chasing after the stretcher Nikaraga was sprawled on, just barely clinging to life.

The guilt and the hurt pushed Kuma to his limits, and he handled this by not sleeping, eating, or taking even a moment to rest. He would assign himself to every mission and every patrol roster, disregarding his health to the point of purposeful intent. Kuma knew he was not equipped to handle the cold, constantly being sick as a young babe had taught him that much, but still, he continued to push himself far beyond his body’s limitations. The only plus side is that the cold had numbed his hunger and made it easier to go without eating for days at a time. But with the cold also came the sickness, and it didn’t help that he was drowsy from the lack of sleep. But despite everything, Kuma would not stop. With Nikaraga barely holding on to consciousness, Silvious being extremely angry with him and refusing to even so much as to be around Kuma, and both Dras and Dainama being understaffed and overworked, meant that no one was there to stop him, no one could force his hand and make him rest.

Rory had tried, tentatively gripping his forearm and leaning forward with eyes full of concern. But Kuma had shrugged off his touch, saying that he was fine and that Rory needn’t worry, which had placated the redhead for a time. But then he returned with the gentle inquires and concerned eyes and Kuma, who was deliriously exhausted and so very tired of people asking if he was okay, snapped back a more than a little offensive quip, blowing up in the man’s face and telling him to shove it where the sun don’t shine or so help me god—

Scar had made his appearance then, defending the relatively complacent and non-volatile man’s honor with the animalistic aggression Kuma had seen only once before. If Kuma had been in the right mind, he likely would have backed down and apologized, recognizing the possessive anger in Scar’s tense frame, but he wasn’t in the right mind and he had shoved back against Scar’s defensiveness with as much aggression as he was given. That fight had ended with Kuma unconscious in the infirmary, not from any injuries, but because he was so deprived of sleep and nutrients that he had passed out after the first punch. When he awoke, it was to the frantic bustling of an overflowing infirmary, the shifters still recovering after a particularly gruesome loss during a recent skirmish.

It was there that he faced the full wrath of Silvious who had hardly left Nikaraga’s side since he was injured, Silvious’ biting words cutting into Kuma and leaving him dizzy with a rush of guilt and self-loathing.  _ He blames you. He’s going to leave you too, just like Iain and Gavin _ _._ His thoughts were as sharp as poniards and as deadly as the venom of a viper, leaving Kuma breathless as he choked on his own regret and turmoil.

He spent five days in the infirmary, sweating out a fever and being fed as many meals as Kuma’s twisting stomach could handle. Those five days were the worst for Kuma as he had no choice but lay in wait and allow the anguish to consume him. He could not ignore the thoughts that overwhelmed him now that there was no fighting or patrolling to occupy his thoughts. It didn’t help that Nikaraga’s mangled body lay in the cot beside Kuma’s own, reminding him constantly of his shortcomings and failures. He normally kept his gaze on the left side of the room, carefully avoiding the right so that he did not have to look at Nikaraga’s prone form or Silvious’s disappointment as he sat in a rickety old chair in the corner of the room.

It was on the fifth day that Nikaraga finally awoke, his lashes weakly fluttering open as he groaned in pain, wisely choosing not to move for the sake of the deep lacerations running all down his wings, side, and chest. Silvious was quick to jolt from his chair and greet his wounded twin, assisting him with slowly sitting up so that he could offer Nikaraga some water for his terribly parched throat.

“How do you feel?” Silvious asked once Nikaraga had pulled the cup from his lips. Nikaraga sat in silence for a while, clearly wondering how best to answer.

“I feel as though I was trampled by a large blundering group of gollumpus men.” He finally remarked, voice merely a croak as he spoke. Silvious had snorted at those words, cackling softly with amusement as Nikaraga began to do the same.

“Oh gods, it hurts.” Nikaraga wheezed, his expression a mix between amusement and pain as he was berated by laughter which pulled on his stitching and made it very painful.

“Then stop laughing, you idiot,” Silvious replied, still chuckling with a fond expression across his tired countenance.

The laughing ceased after a time, Nikaraga sitting up with a burst of worry once he caught sight of Kuma. Silvious chastised him for sitting up so abruptly, but Nikaraga ignored both him and the pain surging up his spine in favor of looking Kuma over.

“Are you alright, Kuma?” He said. Kuma was wrapped in blankets that rose up to his chin, leaving only his fluffy rose-tinted locks and pink eyes swarming with conflicting emotions visible to the others in the room. His cot was placed closest to the roaring flames of the small stove kept in the infirmary for warmth, his bundle of blankets visibly shivering as Kuma’s teeth rattled together.

“‘M fine, jus’ haf’a fever,” Kuma replied, his voice quiet and rough from disuse. He hadn’t been in a very talkative mood as of late.

Nikaraga frowned when he noticed Kuma’s refusal to even look in his direction, eyebrows furrowing when he turned to give Silvious a questioning look and found his twin to be glaring rather harshly at Kuma’s blanketed form.

“Just what exactly did I miss whilst I was out?” Nikaraga inquired, waiting impatiently for a response from either or both.

“That bastard almost got you killed!” Silvious snapped, eyes glowing with the embers of his anger. Kuma made no attempt to respond or defend himself, he simply looked down miserably at the foot of his cot.

“What are you on about? I’m fine aren’t I?” Nikaraga gestured to himself, who was lucid and talking and very much not dead.

“You could have died because of his reckless behavior! Does that not bother you even a bit!?” He turned his incredulous gaze towards Nikaraga, the feathers on Silvious’s large grey wings becoming fluffed up from the extent of his fury.

“I would die for either of you a million times over if it means that the two of you are alright,” Nikaraga stated in his forever earnest tone of voice, holding his hand up when Silvious made to interrupt.

“Kuma, what you did was terribly reckless. You could have gotten yourself killed and that is not something we can just ignore. We’re going to have a nice long talk about this, and you’re going to be completely honest with us, okay?”

“You’re like a brother to us, and I would be devastated if I lost you. So would Vio,” Nikaraga turned to stare at Silvious who had his arms crossed with narrowed eyes, “he’s really upset with you because you nearly got yourself killed along with me and he doesn’t want to lose his family, isn’t that right, Vio?” Silvious didn’t respond, but Nikaraga saw the beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes. Silvious wiped them away before Kuma saw his composure breaking.

“Like hell if I care. You’re a reckless idiot.” Silvious snarled at Kuma, refusing to allow his vulnerabilities to be seen. His words clearly hurt Kuma, but Nikaraga could do nothing about the situation aside from watch the two of them with sad eyes.

The conversation was quickly over once Dras had stepped back into the infirmary and rushed over to check on Nikaraga, leaving just after his quick exam to quickly grab a certain medication from storage that he had run out of in the actual infirmary.

During the CMO’s absence, Kuma was out of the infirmary as quickly as he came, only managing to escape the infirmary after he convinced Dainama that he was fine and that he would take care of himself from now on. The meek wolf had hesitantly agreed to grant him a clean bill of health, Kuma taking his victory and running with it before Dras returned and revoked Dainama’s decision.

He took the time to eat and sleep only enough to keep up the appearance of being healthy, but he absolutely refused to stay away from a fight. The battles distracted Kuma from the constant pain he felt inside, the tear in his battered heart refusing to heal no matter how much time passed and often left him on his knees with tears streaking his pale cheeks.

It hurt every time Kuma saw Mizuku on the battlefield. To see him standing right in front of him and knowing he could not have him was a special kind of torment that Kuma had never felt before. it was becoming an increasingly frequent problem he faced, but one he had no solution to. Kuma sometimes wondered if Mizuku was in anguish too. what was Mizuku going through? Did any of this even affect him at all? Was he in as much pain as Kuma was?

On the outside, Mizuku seemed completely unaffected, his face full of Stoney stillness and cold aloofness. He was the perfect picture of poised power and calm collection, his black hair shining with all the shades of the rainbow underneath the sun rays beaming down upon his lithe body, his eyes a pool of crystal cerulean underneath the dark of his bangs that framed his pointed features and gave his very nearly translucent skin a soft glow of life.

They’d crossed paths many times during countless battles and skirmishes, each time straining Kuma’s heart evermore and leaving fresh hurt inside of him.

Now though, Kuma and three groups of fifteen were on patrol. Each group was in a different area, but close enough to be able to join the fight if any problems arose. The cold of the autumn weather was a difficult enemy to fight, but Kuma braced through the worst of it, rubbing his hands together and keeping himself huddled and tucked into his coat to protect him from the harrowing wind. His wings made things more complicated as he could not shove both large appendages into his jacket and crush them against his back, unless he wanted to reopen the laceration on his wing that was only just beginning to properly heal. This left kuma with little choice but to leave his wings exposed to the violent cold.

Not a single huntsmen had made themselves known, and Kuma’s group was about ready to turn back after two hours of nothing but aimless wandering in the dreary cold. That is until suddenly the Hunters were upon them and the fifteen shifters nearly suffered a crushing defeat in only a span of a few seconds. Fortunately, they managed to turn the tides before surrender became their only option, the two bear brothers in their group using their superior strength, maw, and claws to fend off the worst of the attack. Kuma would have shifted to his dragon form, but that would require the shredding of his clothes and for his body, dragon or not, to be exposed to the unforgiving weather which would definitely land him in the infirmary once more.

Kuma remained on two feet for the duration of the bloody battle, firing musket balls at whoever stood in his path with vicious precision. When he eventually ran out of ammunition, Kuma slung his pistol back into its holster and instead unsheathed the sword normally unused and kept pressed against his hip, swinging the weapon out and around to pierce through a hunter’s chest with little mercy before he bounded off to do the same to another. Swords were a disadvantage against the technical revelation that is the firearm, but with little other options, Kuma welded his short sword like an extension of his arm, cutting through the thick brush of fighting folk and doing his best to reduce the hunter’s superior numbers until backup arrived.

Backup finally arrived in the form of the other two patrol groups, which were quick to arrive once they heard the alarm sound in the form of a high-pitched whistle that every group leader carried with them in the event of a crisis.

Even with the desperately required aid, they were still struggling against the Hunters and only just barely managing to stay in the fight. Shifters were being shot down left and right, up and down, blood spattering the battlefield and filling the air with the thick tangy metallic smell of blood. Through it all, Kuma was right at the heart of the conflict, fearless in the face of impending death as he recklessly charged into the thickest part of the fray, cutting down hunters with his sword as he dodged gunfire and swords galore, determined to take out the mass of the attacking foes even if it killed him.

Kuma was far past his limit and close to breaking down, but even so, his anger and guilt fueled him and pushed him to keep going. Kuma was angry, so very angry, but he was angry mostly at himself for letting Nikaraga get hurt, for allowing himself to be overwhelmed by his whirlwind of emotions, and for ever falling in love with Mizuku in the first place. His adrenaline-fueled fury kept his attention solely on the enemies in front of his blade, meaning he did not notice the one person he truly should have until it was too late.

Mizuku watched Kuma from his peripherals, ever so slightly concerned as he watched Kuma go at the hunters with reckless abandon that was uncharacteristic of the normally careful and precise general. War was harsh and often sucked the joy from all who experienced it, but it nearly killed Mizuku to see Kuma’s normally brightly shining inquisitive pink hues to be only a dull red full of nothing but anger and grief. Mizuku wanted so desperately to drop his weapons, run over to the shifter, and scoop him up into his loving embrace until the light returned to his pretty pink hues.

Alas, he could not. He could not even acknowledge Kuma in any manner other than aggressive hatred unless he wanted for the both of them to be hanged.

His concern and carefully concealed gaze were certainly warranted when he caught sight of Conway taking aim at the dragon shifter, clearly aiming to kill. Panic ceased Mizuku’s heart, eyes widening with fear as he turned to fully face Kuma and Conway.  He was going to kill him, he was going to kill him.

“Kuma—!” But It was too late.

Kuma turned to face Mizuku with a questioning gaze right as Conway fired. He jolted from the force of the musket ball connecting with his chest right below his shoulder, Kuma’s lips parting in surprise as he stared into Mizuku’s icy blues that warmed with worry.

The blood began to flow as his steps wavered and slowed. He looked down,

A gunshot, he should have known.

As his knees pelted the muddy grass below, Kuma thought back to a sweet-sounding melody he had always known. It was the same melody his mother once hummed, a lullaby that could soothe even the worst of his nightmares.

_ “I am the dragon...born of.. the forge...” _

The sword he once wielded proudly fell from his weakened grasp, laying useless at his knees.

_ “I...am the dr’g’n, who knows no...mercy...” _

blood began to patter against the wet ground as his strength wavered and he finally fell forward from his kneeling position, upper body impacting with the ground as he continued to struggle for consciousness.

_“I...am....’he dr’n...”_

His wings laid still, draped unceremoniously across his entire body, covering him in an ombré of white, pink, and red.

_“An’...I will...make...you...burn...”_

His eyes dulled as the final words left him, blood pouring past his lips, as it drained predominantly from the gaping hole in his chest.

His body lay lifeless amidst the thousands of other dead corpses that litter the battlefield, Mizuku falling to his knees amidst the bodies as he watched Kuma collapse in a pool of his own blood.

“Kuma.” His voice was but a whisper, violent trembling wracking down his spine as he convulsed with sobs, uncaring of the fact that a battle still raged on around him.

His eyes honed in on Conway, fingers tightening around the handle of his pistol as anger bubbled within his heart, darkening his blue eyes with murderous intent. He raised the flintlock pistol and aimed right for Conway.

Mizuku breathed in a deep breath, all movement stilling as he focused every atom in his body on this one single task, and then he pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty angsty, but like, I live for angst so sometimes I can’t help myself. XD 
> 
> Also, I’ve got so much stuff planned and I hope you guys will enjoy it. I foresee there being another four chapters, but there’s likely to be even more depending on how much words it takes to write everything that I want to write.
> 
> oh, and, the little melody Kuma was singing at the end is a really terrible sing-lyric-y thing I wrote specifically for this chapter a while back. It’s pretty rough around the edges, but mostly complete? I say that with a question mark because lyrical writing is in no way “my thing.” But yeah, that’s what it is.
> 
> Thank you greatly for taking the time out of your day to read this! Have a wonderful day!


	7. Impulsive Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mizuku is greatly despaired by Kuma’s death and makes a few questionable decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know if I’ve ever said this, but all of these chapters are currently just drafts and will likely be greatly edited and revised once I finish the drafts to all of the chapters. I still have at least three chapters to go (with a potential for even more than that depending on how many words it take to wrap up the plot and everything I have planned) so the period of editing is still far away, but this story is hopefully going to be amazing once everything is said done and I can look back at the finished project with pride rather than a wince.
> 
> Also, I think I figured out how the HTML works which is a great relief knowing I don’t have to struggle every. Single. Time. I put off posting this chapter for about three days now simply because I did not want to deal with the process of formatting, but it wasn’t so bad now that I know how certain things work.
> 
> Anyways, enough of my rambling, enjoy the chapter!

Mizuku had struggled to cope with his decision to push Kuma away. The whole month apart was excruciating with many sleepless nights spent fighting to resist the urge to sneak off into the night to go see Kuma. He only held himself at bay by telling himself that he was doing this for Kuma’s sake, that Kuma was better off without him, and that he’d ruined everything between them anyways. Despite this, the ache to see Kuma’s face was strong, and Mizuku took to shutting himself in his office at night to work on the mile-high stack of paperwork on his desk in favor of laying lonesome in his commandeered bed and room. He usually didn’t get very much sleep, but Mizuku braved through it with a deep-set frown that always seemed to grace his countenance within the presence of anyone but Kuma himself; Mizuku’s bringer of joy and creator of happiness.

Mizuku was an expert at keeping up appearances, he never allowed his exhaustion to show nor to affect his prowess in battle. He stayed the formidable General he’d always been and kept any and all suspicions pointed in another direction because Mizuku knew he had to be careful above all else if he was to survive everything unscathed.

For a time, Mizuku thought he was done for after he’d shot Conway square in the shoulder, but fortunately for him, no one seemed to notice where the musket ball had been fired and instead assumed it to be a shifter during that particularly chaotic skirmish. The skirmish that took Kuma’s life.

Mizuku jolted forward, supporting his weight on the desk with his palms pressed flat against the wood as a shock of distress parted his lips in a silent cry and left him writhing from the fresh pain of his mournful thoughts.

_He’s dead._

There was no way that he wasn’t, Mizuku had watched with horrified eyes as a bullet pierced right through Kuma’s heart and sent him tumbling to the ground in a heap of lifeless limbs and sticky blood. 

_He’s gone._

Tears slipped from his icy hues as he squeezed his lashes shut, attempting to will away the mounting emotions.

It had been eight days since Mizuku watched the love of his life take his last breath, and Mizuku found it significantly harder to cope than it had been when the only warring emotions were his feelings of inadequacy and fear for Kuma’s safety. Before, he thought things had been terrible, but now it felt as though his heart had the whole weight of the universe pressing down on it, flames of anguish and regret licking burns into the deepest tissue of his beating heart, as needles poked and punctured the organ, bombarding Mizuku with painful pinpricks at every second of every day as he struggled to catch his breath against the onslaught of wailing grief that seemed to consume him.

In the privacy of his quiet office, Mizuku allowed the sobs to fall from his lips, tears pooling down his cheeks as everything became too much. The only other sound being the gentle crackling of a roaring hearth near the corner of the room, the only source of light being the flickering flames and a burning candle at Mizuku’s side.

Mizuku had never even said a proper goodbye. The last time they talked, Mizuku had yelled in his face and told him that he’d only been using him before Kuma stalked off in an angry fit of tears. He was so mean to Kuma the last he’d seen him all so that he could end what they had between them and save face. But now that Kuma was dead, Mizuku regretted his every decision and wished that he could take back that last conversation.

Mizuku slowly unwound himself from his hunched over position, fluttering open his wet lashes to stare out into the darkness seeping in through the frosted window.

_I never said goodbye._

His thoughts lingered on those words, anguish falling away as the gears in his head began to turn.

_I want to say goodbye._

But could he...? Mizuku shifted in his seat, pulling himself up as he shrugged a coat over thin shoulders. He put out his candle before slipping past the door and padding silently through the base, unseen and unheard like a shadow in the dark. It was just as he placed his nimble fingers across the latch of the outermost door that Mizuku had realized the mistake of his impulsive decision.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mizuku should have known better. Conway’s right-hand man, or rather, right-hand woman, had been especially suspicious ever since Conway’s injury and subsequent visit to the infirmary.

“Where’s your master?” Mizuku snapped, twisting around to glare at the woman who stood only a few feet behind him, a pistol carefully poised in each hand. Her name was Cassidy Breu, a General serving directly under Michael Conway who was extremely loyal without fault. She was cynical, heavily opinionated, more than confident, and largely unafraid to insult you to your face. Mizuku had never really gotten along with her, mostly because she was always around Conway and anyone who liked being around Conway likely had brain damage in Mizuku’s opinion, but he never particularly hated her either, they just never quite saw eye to eye.

“Don’t patronize me.” She spoke in a seething tone, eyes narrowed with suspicion as she gripped each gun painfully tight until her fingers began to turn white.

“Now answer the goddamn question before I blow a hole into that thick skull of yours.” She was most predatory as she snarled at Mizuku with an animalistic glint in her dark eyes. Her long strands of onyx black were tied up, but the ends still whipped around her shoulders and framed her murderous features in an almost delicate light had it not been for the furrowing of her brow and the glinting of teeth behind snarled lips.

“Funny, isn’t it? That you would choose to betray your own kind all for the love of a man who would probably hate you if he ever knew.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” She took a step forward, panic flashing her brown eyes as she hid behind the threat of a gun.

“Don’t treat me a fool, I know what you are, _shifter_.” Mizuku was mostly stumbling in the dark when it came to his accusations, but if he stopped now he’d probably collapse on the floor, heaving sobs and generally being a mess of emotions.

“You were once proud of what you are, but then you met Conway. you wanted him so bad, but you knew he’d kill you if he ever found out, so you tore off your mark,” Cassidy shifted uncomfortably, knowing that her mutilated wrist was uncovered as she held the guns in the air, showing where she’d torn off a chunk of her flesh all so she could hide what she really was, “you changed your name, cut off ties with your friends and family, and joined the Hunter ranks all so you could be Conway’s ideal human, shifter hating, partner. And now here we are.” Mizuku was surprised at how spot-on he was with his guessing game, Cassidy looking increasingly uncomfortable as Mizuku spilled her every secret.

“Was he worth it?” Mizuku asked, looking her straight in the eye as she struggled for a moment to answer. She was obviously crossed between answering him and telling him to die a painful death before opening fire.

“That’s none of your business.”

“And where I’m going is also none of yours.” They were at a standstill, each not willing to make the first move as they stared each other down.

“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone.” Mizuku finally said after a time, “you can live out your little fantasy with Conway and I’ll just go about my business like I never even knew.”

“I can’t just let you go, you’re a traitor. You shot Conway.”

“Oh, did I? Not that I’m the one who shot him, but he did deserve it,” Mizuku slowly began to inch his hand towards the latch of the door pressed against his back, “and you’re one to talk, traitor. You betrayed your species, so why can’t I?” It seemed that Cassidy did not have an answer for that, her face a mix between frustration and anger as fangs peaked past her lips.

The next set of events happened all in the span of a few seconds, a group of soldiers turned the corner and paused to survey the scene, giving Mizuku enough time to whip out his pistol and fire a few shots at the gathering of hunters before throwing the door open and taking off into the forest as fast as he could, taking not even a second to look back as Cassidy yelled from behind him and chaotic murmuring erupted from the soldiers as they recovered from the attack their commander just rained down on them, wounding some, and leaving the rest in confusion as they floundered for answers and orders.

“After him!” Were the only words Mizuku could make out, recognizing it to be Cassidy’s voice as he ran for his life. 

Mizuku did not look back, Heart hammering against his ribcage as he darted between trees, breath spiking as he stumbled on unforeseen roots and took a heavy fall down a particularly steep area of hilly land, coming to a stop only once he’d crushed his weight against the trunk of a tree stood in his path, the breath being punched from his lungs as he recovered from the rough blow and pulled himself to his feet. He did not linger, taking off as soon as he was sure his legs would not collapse underneath him and did his best to avoid tripping once more.

His route was familiar, footfalls nearly silent as he leaped over the fallen base of a tree, not slowing once he broke through the tree line and sprinted towards the Kraken River. Using his momentum, Mizuku launched himself halfway across the first split of the river, uncaring of the cold he was going to feel once the adrenaline wore off and he became far more aware of the soaked clothing clinging to him like a second skin in the chilly autumn air. Right now, swimming to safety was far more important.

It was just as he plunged into the frigid water for a second time that Cassidy finally caught up, bullets whizzing past his waterlogged figure as he swam to the other side. Mizuku was most fortunate when he finally made into to the other side relatively unscathed, knowing full well that Cassidy certainly could have shot him dead on if she’d actually been trying. It seemed that their little talk had actually gotten to the formidable women, but he did not have time to think on this long as they were still shooting at him and a few of them were making attempts to cross.

Mizuku spared only a moment to meet eyes with Cassidy, an unspoken understanding passing between them at that moment before it was over and he was taking off into the forest opposite to his former comrades, breathing erratic as he ducked under low-hanging branches and jumped over barely-perceived roots and shrubbery. He did not stop running until the faint sound of commotion began to sound nearby. The sound was a familiar one that Mizuku had grown used to, the bustling of an outpost full of life and countless men on a mission to get their daily duties done.

Despite the comforting familiarity of it, Mizuku was extremely careful as he approached, knowing full well that he was in enemy territory and that every man there would more than likely have him hanged or shot than welcomed with open arms. Stealth was one of Mizuku’s greatest skills, making the act of sneaking up on the edge of the base and watching unseen from afar a much easier feat, but it was still difficult to remain hidden with so many potential prying eyes.

All around him, tents crowded around in every direction, only one actual building being present near the back of the encampment with its two stories and foggy windows looming over the spread of tents, fires, and bedrolls. Many shifters came and went from the building, some carrying supplies, others dragging injured brothers in arms, and some with no obvious objective whatsoever. Mizuku wasn’t really sure where he’d even find Kuma’s body, he wasn’t even sure he’d make it two steps before he’s caught and hung, but Mizuku hardly seemed to care at this point. He was now determined to see Kuma one last time no matter what it took.

After watching for a time, Kuma figured the sick-bay would be his best bet, and so, retaining a plain black cloak hastily slung over the roof of one of the tents, he used all of his extensive training prior to now as he followed the stream of injured shifters into the building and down the hallway of the dimly lit outpost, only a few sparse candles lighting the way. This was ultimately in Mizuku’s favor as no one seemed to notice his cloaked form near the very back of the group, trailing behind them like a shadow of death, concealed by the lack of light and as silent as the moon weeping in the dead of night.

He did not enter the infirmary with the others, choosing instead to melt into the shadows and wait until many of those who had been escorting their injured peers or had only minor injuries and did not need to stay, walked back out the doors they once entered from before he even began to think about entering such a cramped area filled to the brim with shifters of varying states of injury and, from what Mizuku could gleam from listening in on the boisterous commotion coming from inside the room, a very sharp-witted, short-tempered medic that was very much done with everyone’s shit.

Mizuku’s opportunity finally came in the form of a frazzled young soldier bursting into the infirmary with a frantic message of an ambush and four critically injured shifters that could not be moved without fear of worsening their wounds. This left the sick-bay devoid of clipped orders, observant eyes, and one overworked medic. He waited for the medic to be long gone before he cautiously stepped from the shadows and peered into the room, finding only a single medical assistant near the front of the room with his eyes turned away from the doorway to focus on the heart rate of a particular patient, ink staining his hands as he quietly worked a quill over some foolscap, recording vitals and keeping a vigilant eye on the most critical patients.

It was risky business peaking past every curtain in search of what remained of Kuma, finding mostly living shifters with two deceased and covered all the way up to the face by the sheets while they waited to be taken to wherever the shifters buried their dead. He lifted each sheet with growing contempt but found that neither of them was Kuma and so he moved on. With only three curtains left to check behind, Mizuku was pretty certain he would not find Kuma here and would instead have to lie in wait until the dead bodies from earlier were moved so that he could follow. But then his fingers wrapped around the edge of the next curtain and pulled it aside just enough to garner a cautionary glance. The sight in front of his eyes had him doing a double-take, pulling the curtain further open so that he could freely stare at the cotton sheets wrapped around a familiar form.

The white sheets covered their face, but Mizuku would recognize those russet ringlets anywhere, and Mizuku only knew one person with scaly albino wings tinged in pink that was an exact match to the wings Mizuku saw dangling over the edges of the small cot and hanging limply at the shifter’s sides.

“Kuma,” Mizuku whispered shakily, tears springing to his eyes as he stepped closer to the lifeless form of his most beloved.

“I’m sorry.” His breath was shaky, the emotions overwhelming Mizuku as he wiped futility at his irritated blue hues, knowing full well that he would not be able to stop the flow of tears. Mizuku could not take his eyes off of Kuma, despairing anguish tearing at his damaged heart and leaving him breathless in the wake of it all.

And then the blanket was pulled back by taloned fingers, confused red eyes peering up at Mizuku behind white lashes.


	8. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuma has a much needed conversation with Nikaraga and Silvious. Kuma Reconciles with Mizuku.

Kuma lay there, in a pool of his own blood, choking and unable to move. Helpless. he struggled to breathe around a mouthful of bitter blood, his throat lined with the sticky substance as he fought a losing battle just to hold his eyes open. At that moment, the only comfort Kuma could find was in the gentle lullaby his mother used to sing, one that began to lull him into unconsciousness. The echo of gunfire became the distant crackle of thunder, his face no longer pressed into the sloppy mud, but rather, the warm fluffy blankets of a cushioned bed Kuma once slept upon every night.

_“Mama, ‘m scared.” Round fearful eyes peaked out from under the covers, minute trembles wracking down the dragon’s spine as the thunder boomed loudly, rattling the windows and leaving the little one petrified._

_“Hush, my sweetling. ‘M’ere.” She was gentle and endlessly patient as she opened up her arms and beckoned the youngling forward, who darted into her arms with a cry just as another bolt of lightning slashed across the sky._

_“Aye, ‘at’s m’boy.” she was pretty with long red locks that trailed down to her hips, and she smelled of roses and fresh cookies, which eased some of the boy’s fear but still left him a trembling mess in anticipation of the next roll of thunder and strike of lightning._

_“Do you know who I am?” The lullaby began as a question, one that sucked up the child’s attention and drew his eyes upwards to meet his mother’s pink hues._

_“I am the dragon, born of the forges.” Mama began to hum in a soft voice, eyes warm as she cradled her son and began to sway to the rhythm of the lullaby._

_“I am the dragon, who knows no mercy.” The little boy placed his head upon his mother’s shoulder, listening silently as her fingers came up to dry his cheeks which were coated in a thin sheen of tears._

_“I am a beast, unseen by all who see.” She continued to hum, her voice light and breathless as she recounted the ancient lyrics their dragon kin once sung._

_“I am a monster, who’s known to very few.” She flittered across the room, swaying in a looping circle as she soothed her distressed son with a smile playing on her red lips._

_“I have been hunted and hurt for nothing, I have lost my own.” The lullaby was dark and mournful, but beautiful nonetheless; Like a wilting rose on a winters night._

_“For I am the dragon, born from the fire, and I will make you burn...”_

Light met his over-sensitive eyes, blinding him as pain burst across his every nerve ending. A wounded choking sound escaped him as he threw his arms out, unable to breathe and unable to see as he thrashed with building panic.

Strong arms wrapped around Kuma, holding him still as he continued to thrash, fighting to escape the snare of hands encircling his waist and trapping his arms at his sides. 

“Easy now, just breathe, can you do that for me?” Kuma’s head was fuzzy, floating in the clouds as he squirmed against the firm hold, only faintly registering the gentle words pressed into the curl of his ear. It took him a few moments to decipher the muddled words, and another few to realize that the reason why his vision was speckled with black dots and the room was spinning was because he was holding his breath. Kuma was very suddenly acutely aware of the burning of his lungs as they screamed for oxygen, which Kuma readily provided once he realized that he could, in fact, breathe just fine and that there was no longer a river of blood blocking the flow of air.

It took a few quiet minutes filled only with the gentle encouragement of a far off voice before Kuma began to regain his bearings. Slowly, Kuma’s eyes adjusted to the bright rays of sunlight peeking in through the sterile infirmary’s windows. The hands that once restrained him had long since loosened, only a gentle hand on his shoulder remaining. Kuma’s pink hues followed the arm up to the face of Dras Takayama, whose lips were downturned into a frown as he looked Kuma over with critically perceptive eyes.

“How do you feel?” Dras said once Kuma had finally become responsive, turning his eyes to face Dras rather than being caught in a far off memory as Kuma had been for the past few days.

Kuma tried to answer, but could only manage a dry croak, Dras hushing him when he tried again to speak against the stabbing pain in his throat.

“Here,” Kuma’s head was lifted and a canteen of water placed against Kuma’s lips, the dragon greedily drinking up the whole of it as Dras poured the cool liquid into his mouth. With the burning in his throat now soothed, Kuma tried once again to speak with far more luck this time.

“What happened?” His voice was scratchy and talking was still very much painful, but at least he was actually forming words rather than incoherent sounds of pain.

“You tell me.” Dras drawled, a single brow raising as he stared Kuma down with a pointed look.

“I don’t—“ _BANG, blood was gushing everywhere, shouting surrounded him, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe—Mizuku, Mizuku was crying._

“I was shot.” Kuma finally said, shuddering from the brief and intense clarity of what had gone down on that bloodied battlefield.

“would’a died too if you were human.” Dras motioned to Kuma’s chest where a thick line of bandages ran over his pectoral muscles and the top of his shoulder blades just above the base of his white wings.

“Well then, it’s a good thing that I’m not.” Dras looked dangerously close to hitting Kuma upside the head despite Kuma’s injuries, so Kuma offered an appeasing smile in response to Dras’s icy glare.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“You were up and down for about three days now, though I don’t expect you to remember anything, you were pretty out of it.” Kuma looked down at the rough cotton sheets pooled in his lap, trying to remember anything other than the choking, the blood, _Mizuku_. But he could not recall anything more than the soothing voice of his deceased mother dancing among his fuzzy memories.

“A bunch of idiots are waiting outside to see you, do you want me to let them in?” Dras voice was full of annoyance, but Kuma could sense the underlying concern for Kuma’s health shining in his guarded eyes.

“It’s alright, you can let them in.” Dras nodded, standing from his seat next to Kuma’s cot before slipping past the slightly ajar curtain that went around Kuma’s bed and one other unoccupied cot. It was only moments later that Nikaraga came fluttering into the room, his large build and wide wingspan taking up more space than was offered in the cramped infirmary, Silvious following behind him with a much easier time fitting into the confined space thanks to his more compact frame and smaller shrike wings.

“Kuma! It’s good to see you awake!” Nikaraga’s face was adorned by the widest smile Kuma had ever seen on the normally rather aloof Shifter’s face, which momentarily distracted Kuma before his eyes finally drifted lower and Kuma noticed that there was an obvious lack of wing on Nikaraga’s right side.

“What happened to your wing?” Kuma blurted out, eyes staring in horror at the barren stump bandaged against his back that remained in place of the once large and elegant white wing speckled with black, grey, and brown all over every feather, length of bone, and chunks of cartilage.

“Oh, that, well, the wounds became infected so they had to remove most of the wing for fear of the infection spreading and killing me,” Nikaraga explained, seemingly unbothered by this fact as he turned to give Kuma a better view of the thin line of bone and cartilage that still remained.

“Nik, I’m—I’m so sorry.” Kuma felt the guilt clawing at his insides, knowing that he had caused this, that Nikaraga would never be able to fly again all because Kuma had been reckless and put one of his closest friends in perilous danger because he was upset and hurting.

“It’s okay, Kuma.”

“It’s not! I took away your ability to fly, something that was really important to you! I was selfish, and a horrible friend, and—“ the hug took Kuma by surprise, startling a breath out of him as Nikaraga’s arms came to rest around his middle with his palms flat against Kuma’s back just between his wings.

“It’s okay.” Kuma rested his head against Nikaraga’s stomach, just quietly breathing in the scent of his friend as he allowed the bird’s embrace to soothe him.

“You mean more to me than flying ever could and I would do exactly as I did again if I was ever given the opportunity to go back in time and make that choice knowing the outcome.” Kuma allowed the emotions to wash over him, uncertain as to the specifics of what he was feeling but far too exhausted to give it the proper time needed to identify every individual emotion.

The moment was broken when Kuma raised his eyes and spotted Silvious glaring at the floor beneath his feet with crossed arms and a foul expression. The guilt returned full-force at his withering glare, Kuma pulling away from the hug to fidget nervously in the cold embrace of tense silence.

“Silvious,” Nikaraga shoved his brother forward with his remaining left-wing, “also has something he’d like to say, right, brother?” His stare was pointed, leaving Silvious to shuffle forward like a chastised child until he was standing before Kuma’s injured form, uncertain as he twisted his fingers together and continued to stare at the floor.

“I...was unfair to you.” Silvious hesitantly began, clearly unsure of exactly how to phrase his next few words.

“I was afraid,” he corrected after a moment of thoughtful silence, “I thought I was going to lose both of you and I was so, so scared. I didn’t want to be alone; I didn’t want to lose even more people that I cared about.” He took a second to mourn the loss of his mother and her secret lover who had become much like a second mother to him but could not show their love for fear of consequence.

“when you guys were off the battlefield and the adrenaline had worn off, I felt so angry and scared that Nikaraga wasn’t going to make it, so I took it out on you.” Silvious visibly swallowed, his voice shaky from reliving the fear he had felt at that moment, not knowing if his brother was going to make it or not.

“So, I’m sorry for the way I treated you because you’re family to me and I shouldn’t have done that.” Silvious finally raised his eyes from the ground to meet Kuma’s in a clash of red against yellow, so much turmoil swimming in those yellow orbs before Kuma turned away to begin his own stunted apology.

“I’m sorry as well. I was reckless, and Nikaraga paid the price for it.” Kuma saw that Nikaraga was fixing to interrupt, but he shushed him with the raise of his fingers as he continued.

“I was in anguish, and so I pushed myself to my breaking point in the hopes that it would numb the pain. It didn’t, and now all I have to show for my efforts is your damaged wing and a hole in my chest.” Kuma looked down to his fingers, a fresh wave of guilt momentarily seizing his heart before he continued.

“I shouldn’t have let my emotions over—“ Kuma stopped himself before he spoke Mizuku’s name and compromised everything.

“I shouldn’t have allowed my emotions to get the better of me.” He corrected his sentence, hoping that they would not notice his slip up.

“Why were you in anguish?” Nikaraga inquired, placing a firm palm against Kuma’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“you can tell us, Kuma. We’re your brothers.” Nikaraga added, a gentle encouraging smile playing on his lips as he ran his thumb in soothing circles against Kuma’s shoulder.

Kuma looked around them, noting with cautious eyes the flimsy curtains surrounding them and the quiet murmurings of other wounded soldiers, along with a litany of curses coming from Dras as he worked his magic on one of his more critical patients.

“ _Not here_.” He whispered, understanding shining in Nikaraga’s eyes as he pulled away and instead settled himself into the chair next to Kuma’s cot, Silvious taking up the edge of the bed as they moved to a lighter subject matter.

He was eternally grateful to have the best of friends that anyone could possibly ask for, Kuma thought absently with a smile as Silvious launched into a story about this lovely lass with sun-kissed hair and raven eyes that he’d met in a pub when they were still stationed at headquarters, laying the charm on heavy as he described how enchanting she was and how he’d caught her like a true gentleman when she’d slipped. He said it was love at first sight and that she was actually a foreign princess from far off lands which is why she could not stay and marry him. Nikaraga did not for a second entertain Silvious’s tall-tale, and Kuma certainly didn’t believe him either, but it was easy to fall back into a familiar rhythm of teasing words and outrageous stories, smiles adorning their faces as they joked and laughed and became the three best friends that they had once been before all the tenseness and unpleasant feelings.

Nikaraga and Silvious stayed well into the night, only finally leaving once Dras had chased them off with the threat of bodily harm if his patient was not left alone to properly rest.

And so rest Kuma did, but the night was chilly and the walls were thin, so he took great comfort in the woolen blanket offered with every cot, covering every inch of himself as he could with the material in an effort to keep warm despite the howling winds pressing against the walls of their little outpost. Kuma began to doze off, drowsy from pain and the exhaustion of his body trying its best to heal itself.

He dozed for maybe an hour before something roused him from the edge of sleep, Kuma pulling the blanket from his face to peer out and investigate just what exactly had woken him.

“Mizuku?” His throat constricted, confusion welling as he struggled to sit up and properly take in the sight of the last man he ever expected to see looming over his cot.

“What’re you doing ‘ere?” Kuma struggled for a moment to speak, heart pounding in his throat as his gaze trailed up and down Mizuku’s cloaked form.

“You—I thought you were dead.” Mizuku seemed even more startled than Kuma, eyes wider than the dragon had ever seen them before, staring right at Kuma’s chest where bandages encased his wound.

“Why do you care?”

“Kuma I—“

“You should leave.”

“Wait—“

“You obviously don’t care about me anyways so I don’t know why you even bothered to come here.”

“Kuma, I love you!” In a matter of moments, the fire in Kuma’s eyes died, leaving wounded confusion in its place.

“I love you so much, but if anyone ever found out, they’d hang us for it.” Mizuku sounded breathless, huffing in and out as he declared his love for Kuma, clearly not unaffected by the emotions plaguing the two of them as he spoke.

“Right, so you came here to tell me that we can’t be together all to save your own skin.” Kuma was defensive, having already been betrayed twice now and not very eager to be betrayed for a third time.

“I don’t care what happens to me, I care only about the consequences you will face. I betrayed the Hunters by coming here, and they’ll kill me if they ever find me, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I got to see you one last time.” Mizuku spoke, eyes shining with fear, relief, sadness, pain, and so many more mixed emotions swirling within him.

“I thought you were dead. Christ, I watched a bullet go right through your heart, what was I supposed to think?” Mizuku stared at him as though at any second he would disappear.

“Oh, Mizu, I’m not human,” Kuma breathed a humorless laugh, “my heart is right here.” Kuma placed his fingers against his left side, right where one's kidney would normally be located. Mizuku stared with lost eyes at the place where Kuma’s fingers rested, startling when Kuma’s other hand grasped Mizuku’s wrist and pressed his palm over his heart. The steady thump left Mizuku feeling boneless with relief as he sagged against the Shifter’s side, his eyes closed as he simply listened to the albino’s heartbeat.

“You hurt me,” Kuma said after a beat.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Mizuku did not hesitate to reply, fluttering his eyes open so that he could stare up at Kuma’s face.

“I don't know how to feel about you right now,” Kuma added, meeting the human’s gaze hesitantly from his place in the cot.

“And that’s okay. You deserve to be a bit peeved at me, angry, furious even. I just want to stay here with you for a time, please.” Mizuku brought his head down to rest against Kuma’s side in order to better hear the thumping rhythm of the heart Mizuku once thought had stopped.

“Okay.” Kuma agreed after a time, ushering Mizuku up onto the bed so that they could lay together in each other’s embrace. Kuma wanted to stay mad at Mizuku, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t desperate to be within the stoic male’s embrace once more, and Kuma was nowhere near strong enough to resist the pull of temptation for what was just within reach.

Things were quiet between them for a time as they settled against each other, neither willing to break the silence now that they were laying together and more than content.

“I’m sorry for being an ass.” Kuma eventually broke the silence, which had Mizuku letting out a surprised chuckle that he muffled against Kuma’s side, caught off guard by the sentence.

“If anything, I was the one being an ass. I should have told you that one of my comrades nearly found out about us.” Mizuku reasoned.

“Wait, What? Someone almost found out?” Kuma’s panic spiked, clearly worried as he pushed Mizuku back so that he could meet his gaze.

“They followed me to where two becomes one. It was the night I failed to show because I did not want them to find out.” Mizuku explained, running his fingers down the pale dragon’s cheek in the hopes of soothing him and assuaging his fears.

Oh, so that’s why, Kuma thought. He released Mizuku’s shoulders, the human taking that to mean he could roll forward once more and lay across the shifter’s front like a blanket as Kuma began to run his fingers through the loose queue Mizuku’s long black locks were styled into.

Mizuku ended up staying for far longer than he should have, because the sun was beginning to rise and the infirmary was once again alive with people coming and going, something that would prove to be quite the sticky situation to get out of unseen. Things were made worse when Rory and Scar stopped by to check on Kuma, the curtain being splayed open by calloused hands and revealing Mizuku to the shifters.

Mizuku’s knee-jerk reaction was to jolt to his feet and draw his dagger, eyes wide and alert as he fought through the thin haze of sleep still cresting over his bleary mind and muddled thoughts.

Which, he belatedly realized, was certainly not the smartest decision now that two furious wolves were standing before them and he was still leaning over Kuma’s injured form.

He knew what it looked like, with his dagger drawn defensively in front of him, empty hand tangled in the sheets next to Kuma’s head, body hunched over the helplessly defenseless shifter, and Kuma’s eyes wide with fear as he stared at the two; something Mizuku knew would certainly be interpreted as Kuma being scared of the dagger rather than the fearful uncertainty of Mizuku continuing to function by tomorrow morning.

Scar was positively livid, snarling behind sharp fangs as he manhandled Mizuku into the air by his throat, claws digging against the human’s jugular as he raised him into the air and slammed his back against the closest wall. Scar peeled Mizuku from the wall and then crushed him right back against the hard surface a couple of times for good measure, ears pressed flat as he growled in Mizuku’s face and scrutinized the hunter with canary-gold eyes.

The dagger slipped from Mizuku’s grasp in favor of clawing at Scar’s unyielding hold in a pitiful attempt to free himself and pull air back into his burning lungs.

Kuma was stunned to silence, unsure of what to do as he forced himself up into a sitting position despite the painful strain it put on his wound when he levered himself up on his arms. Rory hurried over to Kuma’s side, helping him sit up with worried eyes.

“Are you alright, Kuma? He didn’t get you did he?” Kuma numbly shook his head, unable to find any words as he stared at Scar and Mizuku with frightful eyes.

“It’s alright, Kuma, Scar and I are going to deal with him.” Rory soothed him, leaving Kuma’s side only once Dras was there to fret over the dragon in his place so that he could instead deal with the situation at hand.

Kuma could only watch hopelessly as Mizuku was dragged away by his arms, their eyes meeting only for a moment before he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one fought me every word of the way and it was so frustrating to write. Likely because of all of the dialogue and direct character interaction all throughout this chapter. I can do all kinds of things just fine like writing feelings, inner thoughts, action scenes, etcetera. But dialogue still bests me every time. XD
> 
> Anyways, this is in a way the end of the beginning. I’ve got a bunch of crazy shenanigans planned which, if I had to estimate, I’d say might possibly perhaps take about five more chapters, but with me yah never know, y’know?
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed, and I would love to hear what you think of the story this far!
> 
> Have a fantabulous day!


	9. A Clashing of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mizuku’s fate is called into question and Kuma must make a few tough decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note on geography, the place (where Kuma currently is) has been referred to as “the pitfalls” for some time now, but that’s only a nickname because of the many traps set by the shifters to keep unwanted things away from camp. The real name is “South Corna” and just below that is “Kekourn.” Above South Corna is the kraken River, the land in between being known as “Luthemia” and the land above as “North Corna.” All of this is located on the Lthrost peninsula. This is all going to be amended into the story in earlier chapters once I finish the story and come back for revisions, but for now, this will simply have to do.

Autumn froze over to make way for winter, the gentle breeze and naked trees quickly becoming frigid storms and thick blankets of snow the more time went on.

The wind hissed, drawing away any lingering warmth as snow bubbled across the lands in a burst of untainted white, the sun now often frightened away by the moon for most of the day and all of the night. The moon was almost always present, but rarely could it be seen from its place behind the seething storm clouds that drowned the land in a chilly snowstorm for much of the winter.

It was difficult to brave the cold for all involved, but Kuma had an especially hard time with how easily he fell ill in the face of such weather. Kuma did what he could and bundled himself within dozens of layers of fabric, allowing Nikaraga and Silvious to dictate when, where, and how long he could be in the elements after the last few times he'd pushed himself too far and ended up terribly ill.

Being a dragon had many perks, like his inability to be burned by anything ranging from fire, scorching lava, and the sun. He also could not overheat, which meant Kuma thrived in the warmth and could easily survive in a desert or somewhere equally as warm. But then there was the opposite side of the spectrum; Kuma could not handle rainstorms back home, or snowstorms, and generally could not go outside very long during the winter due to his parent's fear of him falling ill.

There had been one instance where Iain and Gavin had snuck Kuma outside to play in the rain against their parent's wishes, which at the time Kuma had thought was totally worth the trouble they were surely going to be in later. Kuma was right in thinking his parents would be displeased though because they had gotten into a great deal of trouble once their parents had finally found them and dragged them back inside. Kuma had only been four at the time and nearly died from pneumonia had it not been for his strong immune system and his mother’s quick thinking. Safe to say, that was the last time his older brothers ever attempted something like that after they had learned the consequences it had on Kuma’s health.

“Sabiston! Don’t move!”

Kuma was snapped from his wandering thoughts by a disembodied voice to his right, muscles freezing mid-motion as he belatedly took in his surroundings with startled eyes. He wondered for a moment if they were under attack, but then the soldier who had shouted to him came running up to place a hand on his chest and push him back away from...something?

“What’s going on?” Kuma was becoming increasingly confused as the man ushered him back, only removing his large hand once he was certain the dragon was far enough away.

“‘at’s a trap we set for ‘e hunters, sir.” His eyes were wild, stubby blond hair frazzled and out of place as though he had been running from a ferocious beast, only, there was no terror on his face, just cheekish amusement as he eyed the smaller male with friendly black eyes.

“Jesus, yeh ever ‘eard of a hairbrush?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth in an attempt to divert attention from himself and the many questions the young soldier clearly had, like why Kuma was walking around outside with a troubled expression, lost in thought, and clearly being an idiot if military protocol had anything to say about it.

The boy eyed his superior officer, black eyes thoughtful and all-knowing for all but a moment before his lips stretched into a smug grin.

“Nah, but maybe yeh can tell me all about ‘ese hairbrushes later, love.” The boy pulled away, walking backwards as he continued to speak, “et’s make it a date.” The blond winked, before turning around and hurrying through the snow to continue in the direction of headquarters.

Kuma smiled faintly at the blond’s retreating figure, wondering for a moment who that had been and why he’d never seen him around. He shook himself from his thoughts before diverting to a different path in order to go around the trap.

His detour caused him to arrive later than intended, which meant the meeting had likely already begun and Kuma would be walking into a war zone of angry generals all arguing against each other.

His theory was proven correct when the door to headquarters was pushed open and hardly muffled shouting resounded through the empty hallways. Kuma sighed as he began the treacherous journey down the hall and into the lively meeting room where all the commotion originated from.

“I don’t think you have a single clue about what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really? Aren’t _you_ the one who said the war would be over by the second year?”

“That’s out of my control and you know it! None of us expected this war to last as long as it has!”

“And yet here we are seven years into the war with no victory in sight.”

“The war would’ve been over by now if you weren’t such a blunderbuss!”

“You have no room to speak, Duke of Limbs!”

“Gundiguts!”

“Shag-bag!”

“Puff-guts!”

“Enough!” It was Scar’s feral growl that shut the bickering generals up, his large fist coming down to connect with the surface of the table to emphasize his single utterance.

Kuma had gone largely unnoticed by most who occupied the room, but Rory had greeted him with a tired smile as soon as he stepped past the threshold. It wasn’t until after the generals had been put in their places that Scar, Dras, and the four others turned to say their own greetings.

“Ah, Kuma, it is good to see you.” Kohana, the only other Major General in the room and also the only deer shifter, bowed his head politely as he spoke, his voice as quiet and reserved as the man always was every time Kuma had seen him in the years prior.

“Yes, how lovely that you finally decided to join us.” Darius Valeron, a brigadier General and wolf shifter, said with clenched teeth and fiery eyes, clearly still angry from his spat with Fí.

“Lovely indeed,” Fí Wałęsa, a hawk shifter and brigadier general, said with an unnerving smile and narrowed yellow eyes.

“Oh, ignore those two, Dear, they ain’t nothin’ but a bunch ‘a sharks.” The last occupant in the room spoke up from the edge of the table, placing his palms against the tabletop and leaning forward to smile at Kuma just as he had done outside by the traps earlier.

“My name’s Willis. Willis Cambree.” The boy with blond hair and a mischievous grin finally introduced himself, his eyes dripping with honey in a mockery of innocence and harmlessness when Kuma really knew that was not the case. This boy was not here on accident, he was as dangerous as all the other predatory generals lurking within the room, he simply did not show it as clearly as the rest.

Ever the gentleman, Rory reached out to offer a handshake to the much shorter shifter who was at least a head smaller than him, gesturing to an empty seat next to him before everyone else once again situated themselves in their seats now that they had all convened and the time to discuss war plans, among the many generals who’d come from all over to meet within this very place, was now. Hopefully, in a far more civil manner than before.

“Now that we’re all here, there are many matters in need of discussing, wouldn’t you all agree?” Rory began as civilly as one could possibly manage in such a tense and unfriendly environment. They may have all been on the same side of the war, but that did not mean that they were obligated to get along, especially not when the decisions they were making could very well cost thousands of lives, countless resources, and even the war itself if they were not careful.

“Yes, Hana gave me this letter just before my departure from Storia. Much has been written upon it that needs to be put into our foresight and liberally discussed among us.” Kohana said in an even tone, pulling out a sealed letter for all the rest to see. It was no secret that Kohana was Hana’s right-hand-man. The two have fought side by side since the very beginning of the war, giving Kohana much access to sensitive information and allowing him to serve by the commander-in-chief’s side all the way in Storia where Hunter forces threaten to overrun the city each day. It was certainly important if Kohana had come all the way out here in lieu of continuing to hold against the brutal assault to Storia in the south all so he could hold this meeting.

“He said this letter contained his plans for a large scale attack on the hunters and that all that is written on this foolscap could win us the war,” Kohana added as an afterthought just before the envelope was passed over to Kuma, who in turn took hold of it and tore the seal into two. With the letter now open, Kuma began to read.

_|| times are hard as of late. We are short of men, resources, munitions, and good ideas. This is why I am proposing what I am today because we no longer have the luxury of a good idea._

__

In exactly two weeks time, Christmas will be upon us and the Huntsmen will have partied themselves into a vulnerable state. With the war essentially put on hold for the duration of the winter, they are not expecting an attack in the middle of December, which makes now the best time to strike while we can still press the advantage. The League of Hunters base of operations is located along the Kraken River in the territory of Kekourn, so Corna headquarters will send all that they have down the river to cut off the Hunters escape while we, in Storia, chase them into the trap from the opposite side. Once we have them pinned, it is over for them, but none of this will be possible if you do not first take down the hunter outpost vying for control over the river. 

__

I know this battle seems hopeless, and I know you worry we will not succeed after so many months of clashing with them, but I am counting on you to break through the barrier and come to my aid.

__

_If we do this right, this battle could put an end to the entirety of the war.  
—Pierre A. Hana ||_

Kuma passed the slip of paper over to Rory once he was finished reading, unsure of just how to react to Hana’s looping cursive handwriting that just offered the end of the war, something that Kuma had long begun to fear would never come.

The room was unnaturally quiet as they all processed Hana’s plans to deal a crushing defeat to the hunter’s forces. No one dared to break the spell of silence that had befallen the generals normally so full of bluster and discord. Even Fí, who normally wore an unsettling smile in any given situation as he rumbled smoothly flowing replies, was as still as stagnant water on a breezeless summer’s night.

“He wants us to do the impossible and to do it in only two weeks time? He’s lost his mind.” Darius finally said what everyone was thinking, teeth peeking past his frowning lips as he ran a hand through thick black hair, only just barely coping with the intense stress that they were all feeling at this moment in time. No one had very much to say in reply, most of them looking down forlornly at the table spread out in front of their small group of generals.

“We don’t necessarily have to obey these commands...” Fí cautiously began, eyeing the parchment in the center of the table, “who’s to say we even received the letter?” No one objected, clearly unsure of what to do and wondering if maybe they should burn the letter.

“I find you deplorable, Mister Wałęsa,” Kuma began with overcast eyes, startling everyone into focusing guilty sights on the small dragon, “you’re a coward and do only what pleases you and sates your desires, but you are also good at what you do. It is the only reason why you are standing in this room with the rest of us.” Kuma maneuvered around the table until he was standing directly in front of Fí who gave Kuma a look of confidence and feigned disinterest.

“I joined the Shifter militia because I wanted this war to end, and if I have to die for this to be over, then so be it. You don’t deserve to be here if you aren’t willing to do anything for the betterment of our kind. You’re a selfish fucking coward.” Kuma’s wings were hiked high into the air, his eyes a smoldering red that seared into Fí’s very soul as he stalked forward on silent footsteps. Fí backed away, smiling amusedly as he eyed the furious dragon. It was no secret that Kuma could tear people to shreds in a moment's notice and that he had little qualms of doing so on the battlefield, one could only hope that he did not feel similarly outside of the battlefield.

Kuma only backed off once he was certain his message had gotten across, that, and Rory’s gentle palm splayed across his shoulder did wonders in extracting the last of Kuma’s anger. 

“Sabiston is right. If this battle is what finally puts a stop to the killing and bloodshed heaped upon us by mankind, then we must do everything to ensure victory, no matter how perilous the battle. If hundreds must die to save millions, then we must choose the lesser evil and face our foe in their time of weakness.” Kohana was the one to speak next, his voice impassive as he looked around the room to survey the thoughts held within each countenance of his fellow generals.

“I am in agreement with Sabiston and Kohana. This battle must be fought.” Rory said from somewhere diagonally right of Kuma, his hand floating from Kuma’s boney shoulder and over to nudge Scar who had lapsed for a moment into deep thought from where he loomed over Rory and his smaller frame with his superior height.

“I as well.” Scar said, jolting back to The present at Rory’s silent insistence. Scar was never the most eloquent with his speech as his large build and fearsome features spoke louder than any words ever could, still, Rory did his best to help where he could. It’s why Rory had been in charge of Scar’s correspondence and did much of the talking when they were still in command whilst Scar was in charge of the military aspects of war.

The four of them looked expectantly over to the final three generals who had yet to speak, wondering what they’d say and just how long this argument would have to last, not that it’d last very long since there were four of them and only three of them.

“Ah, what the hell, a’m in too.” Willis shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets as he also turned his gaze to the two remaining shifters.

Darius did not say anything, but he did huff out a long-drawn sigh before tentatively nodding his head. 

Fí took far longer to give a reply, but eventually, he acquiesced after accepting that he had lost this argument. Though just because he agreed did not mean he had to be happy about it, that much was made obvious in the way that Fí tossed his locks of ivory black and narrowed his thin slits for eyes at everyone in the room over the remainder of the meeting.

With nothing more to say on the topic of battle strategy, and no one else very willing to break the formidable silence that had overtaken the room, Rory broke the silence with a diplomatic smile that didn’t quite reach his exhausted eyes.

“What are we to do with the prisoner? We can’t very well leave him in the dungeons forever.” Kuma's breath caught in his throat. this was the one conversation Kuma desperately did not want to have. Even so much as thinking about the possible choices —Indefinite prison sentence, Exile, forced labor, Execution— No, Kuma couldn’t bear any of them at all.

“I think there is another question we must ask among ourselves: do we vouch for justice or for mercy?”

“‘At monster ‘as killed hundreds o’ our kind! ‘e slaughtered innocent people, _innocent children_ , like mindless beasts,” Willis began rather strongly, “I say we kill ‘em for what ‘e’s done. ‘e don’t deserve to live.” The fox snarled, murmurs of agreement coming from many of the other generals. Kuma couldn’t exactly say that Mizuku hadn’t killed people before, because he most certainly has, but so has Kuma. Kuma killed Sean right after he found the disfigured bodies of his parents strewn across the living room floor, and he has also killed countless hunters during innumerable skirmishes during his time as both a soldier and a leader. It felt hypocritical to go after Mizuku for something that they had all done before, no matter the context. War is war, and they were all just trying to get by however they could. One seemed to forget that they weren’t as different from their enemies as they once thought after years of carnage and bloodshed.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit harsh to want to punish someone for murder by murdering them exactly as they had done? If we stoop to such levels, then we are no better than them.” Rory, ever the voice of reason, interjected into the whirlwind of righteous justice swirling within the room of mostly livid generals.

“Would you rather he walk free only to end hundreds more lives whom we could have saved if we had simply enacted an execution?”

“A quick and painless death is a far more merciful fate than a monster like that deserves. I say we let him rot to death in his cell.” Darius growled, causing an answering growl to escape Scar when Darius glanced with dark eyes in the direction of he and Rory.

“We do not have enough resources to spare on keeping him alive for so long, and death by starvation or dehydration is far too inhumane an option to even consider,” Kohana said, leveling Darius with steely grey eyes as he awaited the wolf’s likely unjust response.

“His kind have done worse than just starve their prisoners to death! They’ve tortured us, ripped us apart limb by limb, toe by toe, fingernail by fingernail until nothing but agony and blood was left for their families to mourn!” No one had to even speculate for the reason of his wounded shouting for it to reach them. Everyone had lost someone, whether that be family or a friend, and there wasn’t a single person within this room that didn’t know what it felt like to have someone ripped from your life and dismantled by death. None of them knew the logistics of Darius’s personal affairs, but it was clear that he did not speak simply on the behalf of others who had lost, he spoke also for himself.

“Humans can be cruel, but as can Shifters, as is most apparent in _you_.” Kohana stood his ground, and eventually, the bickering quickly slowed to a trickle of well-mannered, non-shouted, unbiased inquiries as to their best course of action.

Darius refused to speak any further after the wounding of his pride; it must have been especially painful to have fallen from such a high horse after all.

Fí had stayed out of the argument only until things had quieted, enjoying the show of restless bickering between the rest of them far too much to possibly think of interrupting if that shallowly concealed grin of glee on his face was anything to go by.

Scar was never really one for arguments anyway, choosing instead to be a pillar of Stoney silence and quiet support from his place near the door still stood protectively behind Rory as an ominous figure of promised suffering if anyone tried anything not to the wolf’s liking. 

Rory was far more diplomatic and did his best to reason everyone into an agreement they all would be satisfied with.

Willis was more or less a wild card due to Kuma’s lack of interaction with the Aid-de-camp, but he easily went along with the conversation, agreeing sometimes, and disagreeing at others as he spoke in that never-ending Scottish lilt that reminded Kuma so much of the home he hadn’t seen in years.

By the end of the conference, it was time for a decision to be made, one that Kuma was still so very unprepared to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Their decision will be shown in the next chapter so apologies if you wanted to know, I still have to write the rest of chapter ten.
> 
> I have no idea how many chapters there will be, but I think I’m about maybe halfway through the story? I dont know, I originally thought I was going to end at nine chapters but here we are. XD
> 
> Please tell me what you thought of this! I’d love to hear what you have to say! I subsist off of comments.


	10. Unrequited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuma is uncertain that he made the right decision and Rory and Scar have a conversation about love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you’ll enjoy! This is the first time I’ve done the point of view of anyone aside from Kuma or Mizuku which was quite fun!
> 
> oh and, I ask that you keep the time frame in mind when reading this chapter in particular so that you don’t find yourself confused or anything. (It’s set in the 17th century)

“All in favor of commencing the execution of General Mizuku Rashiko, say aye.” A chorus of ‘aye’s’ filled the room, each one leaving Kuma feeling more gutted than the last. finally, it was his turn to speak.

What should he say? Kuma had long ago accepted that he was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with Mizuku. He wanted to spend an eternity and more with the man, living out their days perhaps not completely happy, but at least together and never not. Because life was challenging, and Kuma knew it would never be sunshine and rainbows, but that was okay so long as Kuma had Mizuku by his side through it all. He wouldn’t ever have Mizuku again if he agreed to the execution. Kuma then thought about his people and his troops, who were counting on him to do his best and to vanquish the looming demise that had hung over their heads ever since the first war between humans and shifters. Kuma had a duty to his people that he could not simply throw away all because he fell in love with the enemy. No, Kuma would not abandon the cause he’d spent so much of his life fighting for all because he selfishly wished to have something of his own, to love and be loved when so many were hurting from the cruelty of a war that he was honor-bound to end.

“Aye.” His voice sounded foreign to his own ears in a way that deeply unsettled him; why did it feel so wrong to do the right thing?

Kuma had burst through the doors of the meeting room and dashed to his assigned quarters as quickly as he could, not for a second looking back as the door to the personal quarters he shared with Nikaraga and Silvious finally closed behind him. Rooms within their small commandeered outpost were few and far between and were usually only reserved for generals and others of high rank with anywhere between two to six people per room. Kuma fortunately only had to share with his two best friends who also doubled as his Aides-de-camp.

“Kuma?”

“What’s wrong?”

Two concerned voices sounded from in front of him, and Kuma slid open his eyes which he had not previously realized to be closed, being met with the sight of Nikaraga sprawled across his bedroll with Silvious fussing over his currently unbandaged wing nub. Nikaraga had sat up when Kuma entered the room, his back turned away from the door and an indignant Silvious stood next to him with crossed arms, silently worried about both men in the room.

Kuma huffed out a shaky breath, hesitating to speak as he pressed his back, and subsequently wings, against the hard wood of the door. His eyes were impossibly wide and his breathing labored when he spoke,

“I’ve just condemned the man I love to die.”

~-~

Kuma now found himself squished between two large frames with two pairs of wings, save for the missing mangled one, wrapped around the three of them, tears painting his pale features as he gnawed at his lip to keep the sobs at bay.

“What have I done!?” He cried, his face falling apart as he mulled over his every decision made up until now.

“There was nothing you could have done. Rashiko was as good a dead man anyways, that had nothing to do with you.”

“But—!”

“Hush now.” Nikaraga soothed him, running a gentle hand over the sensitive scales of Kuma’s multicolored wings as Kuma continued to break down.

“Let it all out.” Silvious encouraged from Kuma’s other side as he ran nimble fingers through the russet curls gathered atop Kuma’s head.

Kuma tried at first to fight the hiccuping sobs, but when that failed, he simply tried to keep them silent as he fought to breathe around the growing dread that was slowly unwinding itself from within his chest. When even that became too difficult, Kuma gave up the ineffective task and allowed it to consume him for a time, knowing Nikaraga and Silvious would be there to pull him back to reality if he fell too far.

The tears eventually began to subside, Kuma suffering the rest in silence as his two best friends, or more aptly, his brothers comforted his weeping heart and crying eyes.

When at last his face had dried, Silvious spoke again.

“Feel better?”

“No.”

“Things will works themselves out eventually, my sweetling, you simply have to be patient.” Nikaraga cooed.

“Fuck you.”

Laughter bubbled from Nikaraga, eyes wet with startled amusement as he ran thick fingers over the thinly stretched skin between the bones of Kuma’s expansive wings.

“As your senior of five years, We are allowed to call you whatever nicknames we so please, youngling.” Silvious teased, tousling Kuma’s unruly bronze coils as his wings flared out and behind himself.

“If you get to call me whatever you want, then so do I, old man.” Kuma teased back with a newly returned smile, his previous worries faded to the background as he and Silvious exchanged quips, Nikaraga periodically glancing above the edge of the book within his hands with a fond smile and occasionally joining the battle of wits whenever he saw fit.

Kuma’s momentary distraction came to a screeching halt when the dull thump of knuckles on wood sounded just outside their living quarters.

“I’ll get it.” Kuma lurched to his feet and wrenched the door open to greet whoever could be knocking as Silvious continued to laugh triumphantly in the background after scoring a second win since their playful banter began.

“Worths? what can I do for you?” The surprise was evident in Kuma’s voice, but Rory paid it little mind as he held out a stack of papers to his superior.

“You left these and I figured I ought to track you down and hand them back.” The documents were important and would be sorely needed soon; Rory felt it was worth the trouble to chase the dragon down and give them back after Kuma had practically fled from the conference room.

“Oh, thank you.” Kuma offered a charming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, which concerned Rory greatly, though he did not say so aloud. He simply gave Kuma a discreet once over, eyed over his shoulder the twins curled upon their bedrolls, offered a polite “good day, sir,” and hurried away back in the direction he came.

Rory thought Kuma a mighty queer fellow. He did many things of eccentricity and often left Rory scratching his head after every run-in with the dragon. Everything from his behavioral patterns to the way he liked his tea was so very odd to Rory who had grown up in England and knew not the many ways of the Scot. Oddest of all, he was so often absent during the night hours, but lately had been inconsistently present within his chambers every night Rory had come in search of his superior officer. Even his friends had begun to act off as of late despite the fact that the two bird-shifters were the more normal of the trio. All of them were mighty queer if ever was someone to ask Rory, and he likely would have no other words about it as everything those three got up to was queer as could be.

Rory thought this all on his way back to his office, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he pushed the door open and stepped into the intimately familiar room. Rory likely couldn’t tell you a thing about his sleeping quarters, a place he rarely if ever stepped foot in, but he could tell you every little thing about his small cozy office. Like how underneath the red sprawling rug in the center of the room, faint markings of spilled tea stains still remained; how a few of the books clustered together on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on either side of the window smelt of coffee from days spent bent over their book-spines and inked paper well into the night hours as he struggled to stay awake; the fact that one of the four chairs in the room had a splintered leg going all the way up to the seat that had been repaired but now felt heavier than the rest; Rory could also tell you that the leather loveseat on the far side of the room had been refurbished twice after Scar had accidentally torn the leather with his razor-sharp claws.

The sight of this room with its single occupant was familiar, but the deep-set scowl and narrowed brows on Scar's face were not quite as familiar. Sure, Scar’s face at rest usually included a furrowed brow and downturned lips, but this was different. Scar’s eyes were full of worry, jaw clenching and unclenching systematically as he watched out the window. He was restless in the way that his fingers curled and stretched out, the line of his muscled back poised with tension from where he sat on the leather loveseat.

“You are troubled by something,” Rory said as he moved over to place the papers in his hand down on the wooden desk before turning to take a seat next to Scar.

“Yes.”

“You can tell me, if you’d like.” Rory kept his eyes trained on his closest friend, his attention never once deviating as he attempted to silently coax it out of Scar with his undivided attention alone.

“Have you ever been in love?” Rory was startled by the question, unsure of just where exactly it had come from as he leaned back with befuddled eyes.

“Yes, twice.” Rory finally answered after a moment of stagnant silence.

“What happened?”

Rory studied Scar for a long moment, debating if whether or not he should even answer, but the thought of denying Scar a response made guilt tug painfully at his heart.

“she was the most beautiful sight I had ever laid my eyes on, with her long golden locks and shimmering crystal eyes; but it was her smile that charmed me the most,” Rory felt his lips upturn at the distant memories he still retained, “every time I saw it, I’d think to myself that it was a lovelier sight than every star known to man each time I saw her smile in that funny way she did.” The smile slipped from his lips, a bitter look crossing his face, “but it was not meant to last. Some say that beauty is dangerous and that love is poisonous, but all I can really say is that I hold her within my fondest memories, despite all that had happened between us.”

“You still love her? Even now?”

“Yes, but in a different way.” Rory said simply, “you ought to tell him you know.” Rory was not subtle in his shift of conversation, but Rory hardly cared. If Rory knew his dearest friend like he thought he did, then the newest conversation topic was likely what had lately been bothering the giant of a man.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Scar immediately got defensive the second Rory began his quest to find the truth of what was haunting the man, which was not exactly the reaction Rory had desired, but he knew he could turn things around with the right wording.

“Don’t be so daft; I’m you’re best friend, and I’ve seen how you look at him.” Blunt was usually more effective than careful bolstering, so Rory hardly hesitated when it came to getting straight to the point.

“You don’t think it’s wrong to look at a man in that way?” Scar sounded hesitant, insecure, nervous; He was scared that Rory would not react well to the knowledge that he fancied the male figure far more than the soft curvature of a female.

Rory placed his hand over one of Scar’s own brutish digits, giving a small encouraging smile to the man, “Scar, you’re my best friend, and even though you’re an idiot, I’d still be your friend no matter whom you fancied. If you were even to swoon over the wretched Lenore in all the ugliness of his self, I’d still find it in my heart to think of you as my most dearest friend.” A moment of silence passed after Rory had spoken, Scar clearly unsure of how to react and just as clearly surprised by the turn of events. It hurt Rory more than he expected that Scar would have even an inkling of doubt about the fact that Rory would stand by Scar’s side no matter what happened, something Scar should already have known from the time they first met as children.

“Thank you.” Scar said at last, his expression smoothing over from the relief and gratitude he now felt. The emotions seemed to overwhelm him, Scar knowing only one way to expel the excess feelings by wrapping his tree-trunk arms around Rory’s small body and crushing the redhead against his chest in an airtight hug that lasted for what felt like eternities. 

“When are you going to fess up to him?” Rory had said once he’d been released from the mighty bear hug.

“I can’t.” The troubled expression had returned full-force at the reminder of why he’d been so troubled in the first place.

“And why not! I see no reason why?” Rory did not understand the big lug’s hesitation and said as much.

“What if he thinks it immoral the way I feel for him?” It didn’t feel right seeing such insecurity plaguing the man’s eyes.

“Do you really think he’d be so shallow as to shame you in such a way?”

“Most people do.” Rory paused at that, unsure of what to say.

“If I were to tell him, I might be rotting in a cell by next morning as I await my own hanging.” Rory had forgotten the prejudice those who fancied their own sex often faced, which now made Scar’s hesitancy all the more logical. His understanding did not make Rory feel any better about how upset his dear friend felt, if anything, it made Rory almost angry at the world for being so cruel to someone so undeserving.

“I do not think he would ever do that to you. I think he admires you in much the same way in which you admire him.” Rory did not allow the anger to consume him, nor did he let it show, focusing instead on the present conversation.

“That cannot be true.” Scar had an air of hopefulness in his voice when he spoke his words of worry; it was only a ghost of hope on the very edge of a mountain of doubt, but it was enough.

“And have you asked him how he feels?” Rory asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Scar gave a reluctant response.

“Then why, pray tell, could you have possibly come to this conclusion?” Scar did not respond, which Rory took to mean victory on his part; Rory had finally won out over the insecure doubt. Neither said a single thing after, for quite some time, enough time that Rory had a kettle of tea and two mismatched teacups in hand by the time Scar spoke again.

“What of the second?”

“Pardon?”

“You said you had loved twice.”

“Did I?” Rory looked thoughtful as though he did not quite believe Scar, though internally his heart gave an agonizing squeeze as he stared into Scar’s insecure-ridden, vulnerable blue eyes.

“Tell him, please. You will feel much better afterwards.” Because I know exactly how it feels to love someone so wholly oblivious, Rory wisely did not add as he cautiously skirted around the topic of his second love.

Scar dignified Rory’s words with only a grunt, saying nothing further and allowing silence to lapse over them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but rather, familiar and easy. Scar did not speak much and Rory hardly minded the peace and quiet as he began the methodological process of sorting documents by order of importance and writing down important points from the earlier meeting.

Scar kept himself busy with his own mandatory reports and the indulgence of a many few cups of tea as what little light outside was slowly engulfed by the darkness encroaching over the sky along with a spattering of stars above the horizon.

It was only after the sun had gone down that Scar finally removed himself from his chair and pardoned himself under the pretense of checking on the infirmary and his wounded men, Rory watching him go from behind the edge of his teacup.

The door shut behind Scar with a clack and Rory let out a sigh. 

Rory wanted above all else for Scar to be happy, he also knew that Scar would be happiest with his endlessly disgruntled crush. Its why he did his best to push them together, because Scar deserved the world, and Rory could not provide such a thing as Dras could. Scar wanted Dras, not him; it was simply something Rory had long since learned to live with. Scar only saw him as a childhood friend, but Rory saw Scar as his everything and more. He was secretive about his admiration, mostly for Scar’s sake, but also because he selfishly did not want to lose the friendship hard-won between the two of them.

It was often difficult to keep his longing quiet, but Rory would do anything and everything for Scar, including silently suffer on the sidelines for the sake of Scar’s happiness. It’s not like Rory couldn’t handle it anyway, he’d been doing it for the countless years that they’d known each other. It started when they were both thirteen and Scar was still new to England: Rory had quickly fallen head over heels for the silent kid who hardly spoke a lick of English. the language barrier made things difficult and their friendship was slow going, but eventually, they became inseparable. No one understood Scar better than Rory, and there was no one Rory trusted more than Scar’s silent imposing figure.

It was impossible not to fall for Scar, and at first, his feelings scared him, because he knew it was wrong. He knew that he would be hung. But Scar needed him. Rory couldn’t allow his fear to snuff out their friendship when Rory was Scar’s only support. And so, Rory buried his feelings as deep as he could and continued to be the shoulder Scar leaned on when in need, until eventually they had scurried off to join the newly brewing war and Scar became a military leader in the eyes of his men. Rory continued to support him even then, and became his right-hand man despite the fact that he could have long ago been promoted to brigadier or maybe even higher.

Rory let out a long-suffering sigh, settling into his chair in preparation for the long night he knew was coming. Rory had to do his best and serve Scar as more than just an Aide-de-camp, which always meant long and sleepless nights. But Rory would do it a thousand times over if it meant he could remain at Scar’s side as his most trusted and most useful friend and brother-in-arms.

This did not mean Rory particularly enjoyed going days without sleep, but for Scar, he would do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I’m being honest, I actually have no idea where I’m going to go with the whole “Rory’s unrequited love” thing, but I do want it to have some kind of purpose later on, so we’ll see i suppose. XD
> 
> Anyways, if you have any advice or constructive criticism, I’m all ears!


	11. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scar and Dras finally have that talk and Kuma just wants his loved ones to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind’ve maybe forgot to post this chapter after I had finished writing it, so yeah, here is a belated chapter eleven. XD
> 
> This chapter upsets the perfectionist in me to a rather ridiculous degree, so basically I hate it, but it’s also just the first draft so I’ll jus’ have to deal.
> 
> Oh, and, I finally found a title for this story that I liked, so goodbye, “World on Fire,” and hello, “The Meaning of Love.”

Scar at first did not dare to enter the infirmary, not while Dras was performing his duties as chief medical officer and shouting out commands left and right to his poor assistant, Dainama, as they bustled about saving the lives of the many critical patients. The most recent skirmish had been bloody, as all skirmishes normally are, and Dras had been hard at work in the infirmary for the whole of the day, unwilling to take even a moment of rest until all of his patients were stable. It’s why Dras had not been present in the meeting this morning despite being a general, because he could not be spared.

And so, Scar stood in the doorway for a many good moments that stretched long into minutes, and eventually, half an hour, his eyes never leaving Dras’s exhausted frame as he went back and forth down the line of patients on each side of the room.

It wasn’t until things had lulled that Scar finally stepped into the room.

“Dras. Walk with me?” Dras, who had previously been leaned over a patient checking their breathing and bpm, raised his head with befuddled eyes, clearly having only just noticed Scar’s hulking frame stood in front of the doorway.

“I don’t—“

“He’d love to!” Dainama sounded painfully desperate with wide pleading eyes as he gently shoed Dras over to the door. Dainama was very meek and would normally never raise his voice, speak out of turn when others are talking, or quite literally chase Dras from his own infirmary, but it was quite clear to anyone with eyes that Dainama had spent all of the day among Dras’s presence and was more than ready to have some peace from the micromanager who always had to oversee things despite the fact that they both knew Dainama was more than capable.

“Do not worry, I’ll take care of all of them, and I’ll call for you if ever I need you to step in.” Dainama was practically on his knees begging Dras to take a break, which Dras eventually caved at the sight of and begrudgingly followed Scar out the door.

“What did you wish to speak of?” Dras had asked once they were alone on a scenic trail of fluffy snow and heavy-lain trees out to the far side of the encampment.

“I thought—“ Scar paused, uncertain of just how exactly to phrase this, “we’re friends, right?”

Dras eyed him with raised eyebrows, confused and more than a little uncertain as to where this line of questioning was going, “yes?”

“And...And if I wanted to be more?”

“More of what?” Dainama was now entirely perplexed.

“I care for you, in ways that some would say are wrong.” Scar tried his best to elaborate despite his lack of eloquence when it came to speaking. It was times like these that Scar desperately wished Rory were here to confess to Dras for him. 

“If you would have me, I should very much like to be by your side for as long as you will allow, in a romantic sense, unless you wish only to remain as friends. I will accept whatever decision you make.” Scar’s mentally rehearsed confession was likely to be the most worded sentence he has and ever will speak, his eyes full of vulnerability and an expectance of rejection as he spoke to the ground and kept his head lowered so as not to catch the expression on the volatile male’s face.

“Scatch...” no one had referred to Scar as his proper name in a very long time, which had Scar involuntarily jerking his head upwards to meet the eyes of the man across from him. 

Dras’s emotions were clearly conflicted, but out of all the many confusing feelings flittering in his eyes, Scar did not glean any hatred or disgust and allowed the tense line of his shoulders and back to dissipate as their already faltering steps slowed to a stop and they simply stood outside in the cold, alone in the stretching white wilderness of the forest that surrounded the outpost.

“I...I care for you too, but this cannot be.” Dras looked away with his words.

Scar was more confused now than he had ever been before. Dras reciprocated his affections but could not return them? 

“What do you mean?” Scar voiced his confusion, stepping closer to Dras as he roved his gaze up and down, head spinning from the confusion pressing down on his temples.

“I mean exactly as I said and I will not repeat myself!” Dras huffed, more than a little defensive at the moment.

“I ask that you please elaborate.” Scar practically whined, his ears dipping low from his distress as he edged into Dras’s personal space.

“I will do no such thing!” Dras had his arms crossed, carefully keep his eyes turned away as he put on a show of anger to hide the vulnerability now threatening to bubble over. But Dras had been unable to keep himself turned fully away and had risked a glance at Scar who was often more wolf than man. The sight of Scar’s ears lowered, tail curled around his thigh, and broad shoulders hunched over with eyes full of an overwhelming degree of sadness, Dras could not fight the guilt that brewed from the pitiful sight of the man in such emotional agony caused by Dras himself.

“It’s just—people will judge, you know! We would be unable to tell anyone of our true involvement.” 

“I don’t care so long as I am allowed to be by your side. You’re important to me.”

“And what of Storm?”

“Your son? You know I love kids, I would cherish him as my own.”

“It would not bother you that he is not yours?”

“I hold no ill-bearings towards his mother.”

“But,” Dras swallowed, “he never had a mother.”

Scar tilted his head, clearly unsure as to just what exactly Dras was on about.

Dras, who knew he’d gone too far to stop now, continued on like a valiant soldier, “I birthed my son on the night of a storm. It was cold, the roof was leaking, and I was entirely alone. I never wanted him either, and I swore that I would never love a child that had been so wrongly forced upon me, but when I held him in my arms for the first time, I knew then and there that I would do anything for him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was born in the wrong body with all the wrong bits. I’m not a girl, but some people think I am because of my body,” Dras was on the verge of tears remembering the hell he had been through when he was younger, “I didn’t have a choice in the matter, and then I was with child and everything felt wrong.”

“You can’t possibly love someone so broken.”

“I love you still.”

“You can’t. I’m not normal.”

“I never asked for you to be, I love you in your entirety; no matter what that entirety may be.”

Dras stared.

“You are most peculiar, I say,” Dras said after a time, his gaze incredulous as he eyed the man he often thought too precious for the cruel world they were forced to exist within. They both had been through their own personal hell: Dras being ostracized by his own species, tormented by humans, forced to raise a child alone and on the run, and only finding comfort once he came across Storia, a land of legend that all Shifterkind dreamt to find themselves in. Scar had lived among humans as a child and was hardly treated right by bullies, abusers, and racists alike, and that was before he had been chased from his home and forced to flee like a dangerous animal.

Dras knew only a little of Scar’s story from Rory’s brief explanation of his own, seeing as the two had fled together with their families when they were young, but it was a common enough story among shifters that Dras hardly needed much to fill in the blanks of Scar’s abuse. And yet, through it all Scar was still brighter than any star and kinder than he had any right to be. One would expect him to be bitter, to be angry at the humans for all that they had done and all that they had taken, but Scar wasn’t. His heart had too much love to give to ever feel true hatred. It was the kind, gentle soul that Dras most adored, for Dras had only anger and resentment, but Scar showed him everything that he had missed in his fit of rage at the hunters, at the humans, at the world. And that tender warmth within his shattered heart was a beautiful thing, something Dras wished to feel more of.

But could he?

Could he ever love Scar as much as the puppy dog of a man deserved? Dras was doubtful, mostly because he knew much of his heart was occupied by the one good thing that had remained in his life despite all the rest: his son. 

One look in those genuine pools of chartreuse had Dras backpedaling to rethink things.

He did not know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain, he loved this man, and he would never be able to forgive himself if he took that tentative love and warmth and crushed it beneath his foot out of fear of the unknown that the future dangled overhead.

“I want you to know, that if a time ever comes where I must choose between you or Storm, I will undoubtedly pick him every time.” Dras forewarned with a chilling gaze and clenched fists.

“Then you’ll have me?” Scar was on the very precipice of hope, dangerously close to toppling over into the realm of uncontainable joy.

“Yes.” And suddenly Dras was in the air and pressed to Scar’s chest, being spun about in circles that Dras was helpless to escape from until Scar finally had mercy and set him back on his feet.

“May I kiss you?” Dras nodded numbly, not quite heating or seeing as he worked to untangle his thoughts. But suddenly all of his thinking was for naught because Scar’s lips were on his in a dizzying display of affection that, somehow, in the span of a second had forced the capability of thought far from him into a distant land that was nowhere near Scar or his far too kissable lips.

Scar had not lingered long, pulling back from what was a considerably chaste kiss to look deeply into Dras’s wide eyes.

“I think I might just have to keep you,” Dras muttered after a moment, reaching up to pull Scar into yet another kiss. Scar laughed, but nonetheless allowed himself to be pulled down into another kiss that Scar would savor for days to come.

~-~

It was just one day before the twenty-fifth that again the generals would conjoin once more as a council, and this time, all were present. Nikaraga’s wing had healed enough for him to attend, which meant Silvious was no longer looking after his brother, and the infirmary was vacant of most of its patients and needed only Dainama to be present.

With Dras, Nikaraga, Silvious, Willis, Fí, Kohana, Darius, Rory, Scar, and Kuma all present, the last meeting they would ever have before the battle of Kekourn, finally began.

“With limited communication to commander Hana, we will be going in almost entirely blind, but for this to work, we must give it everything we have.” Rory began, catching the attention of the previously quiet murmurings of the other generals within the room.

“The plan is to cross the Kraken and ambush the shifters on the night of the twenty-fifth when they will be most vulnerable after a day of festivities. We will then draw them out and chase them down the river until we encounter Hana’s forces waiting on the other side. They should be too surprised to mount a proper defense and we will take them easily.” Kohana explained the plan in detail, filling in whatever blanks for the few who were not present for the first council.

Seeing as most of the plan had already been discussed prior to now, this was mostly to finalize and confirm everyone’s role within the attack. Kuma and Scar’s forces had already been stationed at this outpost for months and years respectively, and so they would be commencing the brunt of the attack. then Kohana, Fí, and Darius would appear with their own divisions of troops and overwhelm the Hunter outpost with sheer numbers alone. The hunters would never expect the second wave, seeing as Kohana and the rest had been careful to not be seen and to exterminate any who happened to notice them trekking through the land under the cover of thick shrubbery so as to bulk up Kuma’s forces and make this ambush and subsequent retreat actually plausible.

The battle was going to be difficult, and would likely also be long and harrowing in the wake of so many enemies, but all within the room were feeling giddy at the thought of finally putting an end to a seven-year-long war.

“But, how do we know that they are going to be inebriated and vulnerable on this day?” Dras frowned. He was the only one concerned on this matter, the rest waving off his concerns with the simple explanation of Hana ordering this to be done and that Christmas was a celebrated holiday that surely the unsuspecting Hunters would be busy honoring.

“Now that we have discussed our plans, I would like to bring up another point,” Rory brought attention to himself before he spoke, “the execution of Mizuku Rashiko is to be tomorrow at 0600 just before we rally our forces and cross the river at 0800.”

“Any follow-up questions?” Kohana asked, continuing only once everyone had answered no, “then that is all in need of discussion, meeting adjourned.”

With that, they all began filing out of the room: Scar hurrying down the hallway after a retreating Rory and Dras, Fí having what must be a tense conversation with his Aide, Willis, as they walked off in the general direction of their sleeping quarters, Darius angrily storming off on his own to do who knows what, and Kohana quietly making his way outside. Kuma, Silvious, and Nikaraga all headed to their own quarters, speaking little among each other until they were safely within the walls of their quarters.

“What are we to do?”

“We must enact the plan this night if you actually want to save his life.”

“I very much wish to.”

“We know, and we’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

“Thank you.” Kuma smiled, relieved beyond measure to know that he would always have the two of them at his side.

~-~

When Kuma awoke, it was to the sounds of shouting and confusion. He shared a knowing look with Silvious and Nikaraga before throwing open the door and stepping out into the hall in nothing but his smallclothes with his two aides right behind him. There was much commotion, with people going to and fro, looking ceaselessly panicked or more than a little confused.

“He’s gone!”

“He can’t have escaped on his own!”

“Someone let him out!”

“There’s a traitor!”

“The gutless miscreant!”

“Who was it?”

“We don’t know.”

Kuma watched it all unfold, doing his part to appear befuddled and concerned as everyone gathered in the halls of the commandeered outpost. Privately, he was endlessly relieved that Mizuku had gotten away like a shadow in the night without any of the patrols catching sight of him as he escaped. Kuma had not been the one to free him and did not even receive so much as a glimpse of his love, who had at once taken off into the forest with a message from Nikaraga whilst Kuma and Silvious had been hard at work distracting the guards. Even if this had all been for the better, Kuma still wished he could have at the very least said a word of goodbye and gazed into those fierce pools of cerulean so that Kuma may have something to bring himself comfort as he marched into battle for what was hoped to be the last time.

Still, Mizuku would live, and to Kuma, that is all that truly mattered.

“We haven’t the time to weed out the traitor, We must begin preparations to leave now!” Kuma recognized Rory to be the voice of reason cutting through the chaos and shouting, which, after some convincing, the rabble hurried off to begin their own individual tasks. Kuma himself and his two aides had tasks of their own and parted with one last knowing glance shared between them all, Silvious hurrying off into the skies to help with directing a large number of troops, while Nikaraga found himself on the ground doing what heavy lifting Dras would allow under his watchful gaze. Kuma had the important task of maintaining morale and boosting confidence as he wandered around the outpost, directing troops when needed and offering a comforting smile to those struggling with the separation from loved ones that they would likely never see again.

War was a difficult monstrosity, one that many felt hopeless in the wake of; Kuma was no exception. The war has taken so much from him. It ruined his first love and took his parents away, forced him away from his home and his country, and just when he thought everything was over and the war was done taking, he lost his older brothers to their festering anger with the world. It wasn’t long after that when Kuma Was dragged away from MacQuarrie into the dregs of war and forced to learn how to survive; how to fight. And even now the war threatens to take that which he loves with Nikaraga’s critical injuries and Mizuku’s almost-execution. 

Kuma was tired of losing the things he loved, and most of all, he just wanted the war to be over. This fight, this battle, could be the very thing to finally put an end to it all, and Kuma hoped to all things holy and not, that luck would be on his side this time.

After all, they’re gonna need all the luck they can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was that. Feel free to tell me your thoughts on this chapter, or the story as a whole! I’d love to hear it!


	12. Battle Drums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the battle has finally come and Kuma wants for nothing more than the war to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ueeee, three more chapters and then I can begin the next draft! There are going to be a lot of changes, good ones, so I’m very excited to begin revisions! My notes have become very long...XD
> 
> Anywho, please enjoy! And I’d love it if you could tell me your opinions of my story!

The hardest part was getting an army of sizable number across the split river of the Kraken.

The rushing river was divided by a great hulking tree; the water splitting only as it crashed into the bark of the tree and was forced either to the right or the left. The water then did what it did best, finding the lowest points of the earth and finding its way out to the sea. It did both, but not before two wide, parallel rivers were formed with about twenty to a hundred feet between each depending on where you were.

Due to Kuma’s frequent nightly escapades that included crossing one of the rivers each night, he knew from experience that a bridge made from a fallen tree existed near the base of the river, right where two became one. Many referred to this spot as where one became two, but Kuma’s experience had been different, as this was the spot where he and Mizuku had come to understand each other, and to love each other. That night, they had become one as the water around them continued to roar thunderously, and soon it became the place where they would leave behind their individual worries, fears, guilts, and shames and simply became a mutual creature of love.

This he would hold to his grave.

Kuma coughed, feeling for just a moment like he could not breathe, but it was over just as quickly as it had come.

“Sabiston!” Kuma turned when he heard Rory’s voice call, having just emerged from the nearby trees after he and many of the nose-sensitive shifters had gone ahead as scouts with Scar in lead.

Kuma offered one more glance to the trickle of reflective water, his heart aching painfully with the desire to see Mizuku’s dark ocean eyes reflected by his side, to feel his lips pressing gentle kisses to the curve of his shoulder and neck. But it could not be.

And so instead he pushed his thoughts elsewhere, focusing on the emerging group of ten or so shifters.

“Anything?” Kuma inquired, handing Rory a pair of spare breeches and a frock coat to go over top of the blouse he also offered to the redhead.

Rory nodded in thanks, clothing himself with quick efficiency as he gave his report.

“The river is clear of enemies,” Rory began, tugging at the breeches until they settled properly in place.

“And we went ahead to scout the rest of the area on the other side; all of the hunters are accounted for within the outpost.” That explained the water that clung to his fur when he and the rest had strolled into their makeshift camp moments prior; Kuma did not envy Rory or his dip into the frigid depths of the river during one of the coldest months of the year. Even now, Kuma felt the cool breeze crawling up his spine through his overcoat, causing goosebumps to break out over the whole of him alongside his insistent shivering.

“How many?” Kuma asked behind the chattering of his teeth.

“Eight-hundred in the least.” Rory had just finished buttoning the frock as he said this, finally looking up from the task of dressing himself to meet Kuma’s gaze.

“Their numbers are worrying, but nothing we cannot handle,” Rory reassured Kuma’s silent worry, gesturing with his hands to the camp that surrounded them; alive with people as everyone did their part and worked to break up the camp. Kuma and Scar’s troops equaled close to 700, but with the addition of Kohana, Fí, and Darius’s men, they managed a total of 1,500. Which certainly gave them the advantage.

“You’re right. Thank you.” Rory pat Kuma’s shoulder comfortingly, stalking off to speak with a now-dressed Scar who was excitedly showing off the cut on his arm to Dras as though it were a badge of honor, though Dras did not seem impressed, more annoyed and concerned than anything else as he urged the man to still so he could examine it properly for signs of infection. It took Rory coming up behind Scar and digging his elbow into the wolf’s side for him to listen to the exasperated medic.

Kuma smiled fondly at the display of familiarity and affection between the three as Scar whined low in his throat and Rory huffed out a quiet admission of apology, Dras smacking the both of them on the head for who knows what just before Rory ducked from his reach and used Scar as a wall of protection, seemingly disgruntled as he argued with Dras about something relatively light-hearted.

It was the kind of behavior one would see between close friends or siblings, or perhaps even lovers, and something that Kuma had seen little of since the beginning of his involvement in the, at the time, two-year-long war.

It made him miss his own family; his thoughts drifting off as he worked at disassembling many of the tents and packing up supplies.

Little MacQuarrie was such a sweetling, always willing to give, and to share, and to love, no matter what you had done that most would see as unforgivable. He was a ray of sunshine within a sea of dark stormy clouds that always served as a reminder to Kuma as to why he was fighting this war in the first place.

Then there was Iain. Closer to the sweet tang of black licorice, he was more of an acquired taste to some due to his prickly personality and general rudeness, but Kuma had always adored the older boy for his bravery and decisive stance in many things.

And Gavin. He was sweet and friendly to all, always the more reasonable of the two twins along with being more artistically inclined. Kuma loved him in equal measure for the quiet, contemplative conversations they would often have in the dark of night when they were supposed to be resting. Kuma always knew Gavin would follow Iain anywhere, and Iain was prone to wandering, so it really shouldn’t have come as any surprise that they had left.

Mom...oh how he missed her. The woman was so very bubbly and never once raised her voice nor her hand whenever Kuma had gotten himself into more trouble than he could handle. She would simply sit him down and cradle him until the flow of guilty tears had slowed to a stop, something she thought was enough for him to repent for his wrongdoings. And afterwards, she’d always say in a gentle tone of voice that she wasn’t mad, nor even disappointed, because Kuma had himself recognized his wrong and that to her was enough. She loved with the whole of her heart, even to Gavin and Iain who weren’t truly her sons, and always had more love to give because that was just the kind of woman she was.

and of course, there was his father, a man he looked up to still to this day. His father was kind and just, respectful, but not distant, and often a pillar of strength to Kuma in his darkest hours. He was the glue of their family, holding them all together with his very presence and those kind shining eyes that Gavin and MacQuarrie had most certainly inherited from him. Kuma found strength in the memory of his father.

Kuma’s quiet musings of the family he once had were interrupted by a hand upon his shoulder, and he turned to find Nikaraga on his left and Silvious on his right, Nikaraga’s hand resting gently against the curve where shoulder became wing.

“Are you ready?” He asked, and that’s when Kuma finally noted the changes of his surroundings, taking in the fact that no more tents remained and that the troops had mobilized into a formation of varying animals, some with riders, and many without. Kuma nodded without words, allowing himself to be lead over to where a wolf stood, staring at him with intelligent blue eyes.

Oh, right. Nikaraga insisted he not shift lest he falls terribly ill due to the exposure of his body to the cold. Rory had agreed and Dras had sanctioned this decision, which meant that Kuma had little choice but to become luggage on the back of another or to walk, which, Kuma knew was not a viable option as he would very easily be left behind walking on short legs next to a group of creatures such as horses, lions, wolves, and an endless array of many more.

And so, resigned to his fate, Kuma allowed Nikaraga to lift him up onto the back of the large furry wolf. Not that Kuma was entirely certain it was a wolf; it appeared closer to that of a domestic dog in comparison to Scar’s pure black wolf that appeared as a horrendously vicious Predator, and Rory’s smaller red wolf that shared an equally dangerous-looking appearance. This wolf seemed fluffier, with a white face, blue eyes, and a white underbelly. It was also far smaller than any wolf shifter Kuma had ever seen, though still large enough to easily support Kuma’s small form. Kuma wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it, but climbed on nonetheless, internally very grateful for all the warm fur pressed against the whole of his front as he gently curled his fingers into the fur near its neck and held on for dear life as the wolf-dog yipped and moved forward to join the rest of the wolves near the front of the formation.

Nikaraga had waved them off with a short: “I’ll see you later,” before he himself had found a large horse shifter —one of his close friends— to pair with due to his mutilated wing, which put him near the back of the formation.

They waited only a couple minutes longer before they were finally heading out with Kohana in his deer form at the front using all the grace of his species to bound ahead and almost completely singlehandedly lead all 1,500 of them to the edge of the river where Rory had reported was the shallowest crossing.

They were soon making quick time as they followed the river down to the location of their imminent crossing, staying carefully within the forest as the passed so as not to be spotted by any hunters who may have strayed near the river. The warmth of the wolf-dog’s fur had comforted Kuma greatly, and he found himself drifting into thoughts of the home he had not been to in years, the one that MacQuarrie occupied in his lonesome. How lonely it must be to know not the location or status of the last living family you have. _Soon...soon I will be home._

It seemed like no time at all when everyone suddenly came to a stop, Kuma tightening his fingers within the unruly mane of fur near the wolf shifter’s head as he was jostled by inertia from the sudden shift between moving to not. He loosened his hold remorsefully upon hearing a quiet whine from the wolf-dog; apologizing quietly as he looked around to see why they’d stopped, only to realize that there was a wall of rushing water roaring past them with an indomitable ferocity. The only positive Kuma saw to this point was that it was far narrower here, to the point where most would be able to jump right across.

And many began to do so once Kohana had sprung across on his spritely stocks, unbothered by the burden of distance as he charged forth and all behind began to follow. First, it was the wolves, who found themselves in the front of the formation to begin with, that leaped from the Corna to the island of Luthemia that stood between the split rivers, then the smaller of the shifters who were packed into the center of the formation, and then the larger of their kind that was kept to the back. Most of the shifters crossed with little difficulty, but some undershot the jump and became submerged, scrabbling frantically at the side of the riverbed as they fought to pull themselves from the frigid waters below.

Dainama has been the first to end up in the water; the skittish medical assistant allowing his nerves to get the best of him as he struggled to make the jump. But he was pulled from the gushing stream by a particularly disgruntled looking Dras before he could be swept away; the hybrid hissing with bared fangs as he berated the small wolf for being an idiot as he had said many times before. Dainama has been relatively unharmed, if a little cold, but it still set many on edge, Kuma included from where he was upon his gracious host’s back.

Kuma fully intended on hopping off the wolf-dog’s back so that the canine could hop across without any added difficulty, but when he said as much and moved to slide off, the wolf-dog was off like a bull charging full speed ahead to their doom, as if provoked by the very presence of the roaring water. All Kuma could do was shout in protest and hold on tight as suddenly they found themselves within the air flying above the Kraken.

The feeling of cold and wet seeping into his clothing was Horribly jarring as the wolf beneath him fought to keep their paws upon the riverbank despite the water urging them downstream. Scar was a saving grace, his teeth finding a thick tuft of hair close to the wolf-dog’s scruff and yanking them fully ashore before they had the chance to lose at the game the river was attempting to play. Which, Kuma found himself more than a little grateful as he rolled off the wolf-dog’s back and pressed himself against the earth for a long moment.

He only sat up at the insistence of a snuffling snout that pressed to his neck and face, a low guttural whine escaping the wolf-dog as he urged Kuma onto his feet.

“You are...absolutely crazy.” Kuma breathed with wide eyes, but the startled smile upon his lips was hard to miss as he dragged a hand through the wolf-dog’s fur and begrudgingly pulled himself to his feet.

After their relatively eventful first crossing, they went a little ways down the river to their next. This crossing spot was calm and relatively shallow, but far too wide to be jumped across, making it a necessity for those more sensitive to the cold to be carried upon the backs of others so as to avoid the water and keep themselves in moderate health. Kuma noted that the water came up to the thighs of the wolf-dog who had taken him on his back, many of the smaller critters needing some assistance to cross but ultimately doing fine on their own. He noted how Sally had jumped from the wolf she was on and submerged herself fully within the water, unbothered by the chill as she helped out where she could and ultimately soaked up the feeling of water against her skin.

Once they had all crossed without incident, the camp went up again, tents being erected and many of the troops settling down as fires were begun and carefully maintained to keep the smog minimal. It was here that Kohana, Darius, and Fí would part from them, trekking through the night up to the opposite side of the Hunter outpost so as to ambush them the following morning after the attack from Kuma had already begun.

“I’ll see you after, Sabiston,” Kohana said with a soft smile, squeezing Kuma’s shoulder as he spoke his words of parting.

“If you see Hana,” _and I don’t make it_ , was implied, “tell him this, ‘D-7’ he’ll know what it means.” Kuma looked puzzled but nodded nonetheless, watching the man depart with a solemn expression until all that remained of the man was an empty space where both he and his troops had once occupied.

“Goodbye, friend,” Kuma whispered to nothing, before finally turning his back from that spot for good.

behind him stood a young man with straight black hair and familiar blue eyes that peered at him curiously. He stood in the place of the wolf-dog Kuma had ridden on the back of, which led him to assume this was the wolf-dog’s human form, especially considering the fact that he stood there in nothing but what he was born with, showing no shame nor embarrassment over his state of dress, though that was a common trait of the shifter species, he still made no move to dress even in the presence of his commander who he continued to watch with joyous blue eyes.

“Hello! I am Niki Namkoung!” He introduced himself, sounding quite proud to have something all his own judging by the way he held himself as he said that, and the shining of his bright blue eyes.

“Sabiston.” Kuma offered to him, noting that the grin of the male’s face grew exponentially at the offering of his own name.

“Yes.” Niki agreed, to what, Kuma had no idea, nodding awkwardly as he watched the wolf shifter.

“It is nice to meet the dragon; to help the dragon.” Niki offered with that same bright grin, eyes going to where his wings were hidden beneath his overcoat with so much innocent joy and pride that Kuma was very suddenly reminded of MacQuarrie and the unfiltered way he would talk about the things that made him happy and the things that didn’t. Kuma also finally took note of the accent. It was thick and made the boy’s speech garbled, but despite the obvious struggle, he still marched stubbornly on in that endearingly stilted English he spoke in—Russian, Kuma decided after a moment, watching with considering eyes as he did so.

“Ehm,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly aware that he had no idea what to say to the young man, “thank you, for letting me ride with you.” He finally settled on, knowing it to be an easy truth. There were not many shifters who could tolerate being ridden as though they were some kind of livestock with no other purpose than to transport their betters, as that was how most viewed the idea, so for the young man to have agreed to assist the wounded, inconveniently small or slow shifters, and those that were simply built for different environments, was something Kuma found himself rather grateful for, considering his susceptibility to the cold.

“No, no, I am thankful. You help to end the war; I am thankful to all who fight for us.” Niki refuted, but his eyes became distant with sadness as he spoke, as though he was lost in the memories of past. It wasn’t hard to take a guess that Niki had likely lost someone dear to himself at the hand of the Hunters and their massacres.

Kuma knew this because he himself had often worn such an expression in the face of the insurmountable anguish that plagued him more and more with each passing of those he so loves. Kuma also knew that nothing could be done to ease such harrowing pain, so he did not try as he placed a hand upon the shifter’s shoulder and offered what he hoped was a comforting smile. He received a watery one in return, which broke Kuma’s heart despite barely knowing the boy, and he forced himself to look away.

“If we are lucky, this is the last time the shifters will ever have to suffer again by the will of the hunters and their wicked ways.” And with that Kuma dropped his hand, walking away to see to his duties as commander, but not before he spoke a gentle goodnight, “rest, and tomorrow our endurance will be rewarded.”

They rose well before dawn, tents being taken apart, fires put out, and ashes scattered as they prepared for the battle just ahead of them. Kuma was at the center of it all, his attention on so many things at once that he hardly had the time to fear for his fate, and it was like this that he rode off on the back of Niki, who seemed endlessly happy to continue to be of use to the dragon that he practically insisted he be the one Kuma rode to battle on. Kuma hesitantly agreed, despite wanting not to overstay his welcome, and soon they were off; Niki’s paws beating rhythmically against the earth as he galloped straight for the once thought impenetrable fortress.

It was there that they found the hunters. Few were out and around save for a handful of guard patrols and the ones that stood imperviously by the gate; these hunters understandably surprised to find dozens of shifters pouring from the surrounding forest with shrill battle cries and a vehement penchant for the murder of the huntsmen. The guards tried to defend against the onslaught, but were quickly overwhelmed by swords and claws, leaving nothing but lifeless corpses in their wake as the barred gates were slammed open by brute force and within moments the hunters would know nothing more than these last moments that had crept suddenly and fiercely upon them.

The hunters, oddly enough, seemed to have been waiting. Kuma noticed Conway and his right hand, Cassidy, upon their horses just standing there with the whole of their troops behind them, also on horses.

As soon as the shifters crossed the gated threshold, they attacked, swords slashing, guns firing, horses screaming, and men shouting as a pack of wolves launched themselves at them just before the rest of the shifters came through with their assault on the Hunter outpost. The shifters had only the advantage of surprise, which now seemed not to be the case, while the hunters had the numbers, the munitions, and the knowledge of the territory, which put them at a slight advantage, but only for so long.

Just as the battle was beginning to become hopeless, and Kuma began to worry the reinforcements were not coming, a distant cry sounded behind the walls of the outpost, and just as quickly, the back gate was flung open and flooded with the reinforcements they so desperately needed. It was just as Kuma came to the conclusion of their winning, that Conway seemed to realize the same, his eyes tightening with an ugly sort of anger as he sounded for retreat and took off through the front gate.

Many of the hunters who followed were cut down as they passed the gate, but many more were able to pass, and soon the chase began.

With the shifters and their forces blocking the river and curving around to also block the forest on the opposite side, the hunters had only one place to go, and that was to the south where the Hunters did not know Hana and his forces would be waiting. And so they gave chase for three days; often through the night, and always through the day.

It was an exhausting journey, one that required much self-discipline and a predatory focus on the task at hand. And ever the hunters strayed, battle would be wrought; leaving a trail of bodies behind them as they continued to drive them from Lthrost and into the French territory where they would receive no support from hunter nor ally.

It was just as they came upon the plains of Kekourn that the end finally came to their game of chase, for there before them a battle raged on. Hana’s forces were there in their colors of white, grey, and blue, while the enemies stark red infested the battlegrounds; a vicious power struggle occurred within the skirmish as the two sides fought for the end of the war and their subsequent victory.

Conway’s Troops joined Lenore’s, melding together until they were indiscernible as blood continued to stain the muddy ground below. Kuma and Kohana raced forward to offer their support to Hana, though there was no time to speak with Hana —Hana only briefly acknowledging them with the tilt of his head as he hacked away at his attackers from within his saddle— because the skirmish would not pause for the greetings of old friends, and instead they went straight to work.

Kuma was off Niki’s back more than he was on, parrying blows, dodging shots, and slicing where he could with his sword. Flying was a difficult task with his still injured wing, but the appendages were an integral part of his fighting style and so he simply grit his teeth and bore with the pain.

_This was it, this would be the final battle, that is if everything went in their favor_. The thought was electrifying; it kept Kuma going through it all even at the times when he did not think he could keep going, and he fought on.

Even as a sword dug into his arm and a bullet grazed his side, Kuma kept going, ignoring the blood that splattered his frock, ignoring the burning feeling within his gut that echoed with the feeling of _wrong_ , this is _wrong_ , _this is necessary_.

He took a shuddering breath and kept going.

Parry there, lunge here, ignore the blood staining the sword within your hands, repeat.

Kuma was given hardly any room to breathe as the hunters attacked with all that they had, Kuma thinking multiple times over the course of the fight that _he should be dead._

_The blood was everywhere._

_He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t breathe._

_He can’t breathe._

Kuma found himself coming to blows with the infamous Lenore, feeling the formidable hatred that ran through the man’s veins and seeped into his dark eyes. That ghastly hatred was exactly what Kuma exchanged blows with, feeling incapable of breath as he suffocated within the presence of such oppressive darkness.

The man’s eyes seemed to pierce his very soul, similar to the way Mizuku’s eyes had drawn Kuma to his love like a moth to a flame, only, Kuma did not want to know this person, he did not want to speak to Lenore, or to learn the whole of his being as he had with Mizuku, he simply wanted to escape from the pressure of his gaze and to hide away until at last, he war had come to pass.

It was Kohana that came to his rescue, taking the eviscerating gaze upon himself as his sword came down to strike Lenore from behind, but was thrown off at the last moment by a stray shot to the hip which completely immobilized him against the ground as he took in the burning pain lashing up his side and wrapping around his spine. Lenore, turning to face Kohana, raised his sword to end the wounded deer, but was once again thwarted as Hana came at him like a reckless bull, charging forward and throwing all of his weight into the swing he hefted at Lenore’s head.

Kuma was relieved when another hunter came at him, wanting not again to face the wrath of Lenore ere he live to face the chilling hatred of that man again.

he focused all of his attention on his newest attacker, slamming the handle of his sword into the hunter before flipping it around and digging the blade in as far as it would go. Kuma took the time to watch the young man’s face fall into the sweet bliss of death, forcing himself to watch what he had done to the life of a young man, one with a future ahead of them, one that probably had a woman he fancied, one he was going to marry at the end of the war, and Kuma had taken that all away.

He turned away.

His gun was loaded by the time another hunter flung their sword at him, which Kuma promptly put to rest with a shot to the chest, watching in slow motion as the hunter fell to their knees and grasped wildly at his hip for the gun that wasn’t there. His eyes were wide, fearful, and so very young. Kuma grit his teeth, turning away to face his next foe head-on with the end of his sword.

And when the sword was knocked from his grip, he filled his hands with the dirk strapped to his hip, running forward with a burst of speed, provided by his wings, just before launching himself at the hunter and burying the dirk into his eye. Kuma ignored the gut-wrenching pleas, dragging the knife down the huntsmen’s stomach until his pleas quieted, and then he picked himself up and defiantly parried the broadsword headed right for this head.

Everything became a blur to Kuma, kill after kill staining his hands and face red as chaos reigned on around him. Being short had its advantages as Kuma often went unnoticed, digging his dirk into unsuspecting legs, knees, ankles, and feet as he passed by as nothing more than a blur of movement with a vicious aptitude for death.

It was just as Kuma hacked down another hunter and no other stepped up to replace him that Kuma paused to wonder at his surroundings. All around him, blood, corpses, and living men littered the battlegrounds, but all who stood wore the colors of the shifters, and all who kneeled wore the colors of the enemy. All swords had been sheathed in their scabbards, and all guns put away against their user’s hip.

A great ferocious roar was heard from the victors, and Kuma belatedly realized it was the shifters who cheered.

Which could only mean one thing: _they won._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While nothing is set in stone, I think after this trilogy, I’m going to have a sequel that centers around Kuma’s siblings, and then a prequel (maybe prequels) that are all about the first war and will have all the shifter and dragon lore in it. But yeah, who knows? XD
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading!


	13. Kekourn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter’s main forces having surrendered, it is time for the last of them to be driven off and for a time of healing to begin.
> 
> Kuma is invited to return to Storia by Hana, but first he must get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! Finally finished another chapter! I actually had this finished for a while, but couldn’t be bothered to post it. XD anyways, two more chapters and then the revisionary process can begin!

Kuma could hardly believe it. They won.

_They actually won._

Kuma was near to tears, gasping for breath as he embraced the shifter nearest to his side and left with a hurried kiss to the poor confused shifter’s jaw.

“Nikky!” Kuma cried upon sighting him, running at the owl with the full force of his being before abruptly shifting gears and leaping into his best friend’s arms. Despite having been taken by surprise, Nikaraga still caught him with ease, a grin spread from ear to ear as his own enthusiasm bubbled up in the form of spinning Kuma around with spastic movements of unbridled joy.

They laughed together with tears of joy, looking to all the world like they had lost their minds as they practically vibrated against each other. That was how Silvious found them, and he eagerly joined their fit of madness with a kiss to each of their cheeks and a tight embrace with both arms and wings.

Kuma welcomed the kiss to his grimy cheek with a grin and one of his own, but Nikaraga had not been as amused; not if the punch to the gut Silvious received upon taking Nikaraga’s face within his palms and practically smothering his twin with slobbery smooches to both cheeks was any indication.

“Gross, Vio!” Nikaraga shouted, wiping furiously at his cheeks as Silvious wheezed with laughter, cradling his stomach protectively all the while so as to avoid another punch from the disgruntled aide-de-camp.

Kuma laughed fondly as the two bickered among themselves —“not only is that disgusting, but it is also very much rude.” “Aw, cah-mon, Nik! Don’t you love your bestest of brothers?” “I only have one, and he is nowhere near what I would call ‘the best’ nor is he deserving of my love!” “I beg your pardon? Surely you do not know the meaning of the word, for you would be on your knees thanking the high heavens for gifting you the most preeminent and unexampled of brothers!” “And that is where you are wrong, brother; you are the perfect example of an idiot.” “Ohoho! So that’s how you’re going to be!”— but quickly sobered upon noticing the approach of their most formidable leader, Commander Hana.

“General Sabiston,” Hana intoned his head as he approached, seeming impatient judging by his lengthy strides and hard-pressed lips.

“Commander,” Kuma gave a reverent nod, Silvious and Nikaraga doing the same as all fell into silence within their small group of four.

“I have not the time to speak long, ere I ride back to Storia, but when four weeks time has passed, a delegation will be had. I want you there; I could use your council.”

“I will be there.” Kuma nodded, his gaze firm.

Hana quickly said his goodbyes, hurrying thither to where Kohana lay, indisposed and bleeding sluggishly from behind the cotton tied haphazardly round his waist. It seems they exchanged a couple of words before Hana hurried off to his mount with a heavy brow and the corners of his lips tipped into a frown.

“We ought to be taking you over to the medic tent now,” Nikaraga said into the silence left in the wake of Hana’s retreating form, his eyes flitting over Kuma’s bloody form for probably the first time now that the endorphins over winning such an important battle had finally begun to wear off.

“Most of it’s not mine,” Kuma added offhandedly as he looked down at himself. He was positively soaked in blood from top to bottom, the sticky liquid clinging to his cheeks, drying in his curls, soaking past his overcoat, and sloshing messily within his boots. It was an unpleasant sensation, to say the least, and an even more unpleasant thought, but Nikaraga said nothing as he took Kuma by the wrist and led him through the throng of shifters and corpses until Dras’s authoritative voice could be heard calmly dealing out orders to the best of his capability as he sorted the increasing number of patients into categories to ensure all of the worst was handled before anything else.

When Dras caught sight of them, he let out a long sigh.

“Why am I not surprised?” Was all he said upon taking in what a sight for sore eyes Kuma was in that moment.

“Oi, pup, take care of this!” Dras called out, turning away just as a quiet “yes sir” was called back in answer and Dainama came out from behind one of the cots to look Kuma over.

“I’m not that hurt,” Kuma grumbled, prickling from the way Dras had apparently immediately thought his wounds to be of the critical sort.

“Frankly, and I mean this with the utmost respect, but I do not believe you,” Dainama said in return as he urged Kuma to part with his bloodied frock and waistcoat, leaving him in only his chemise, breeches, and boots, “sir,” Dainama added meekly as he shied away, almost as though he expected to be hit for speaking his mind to a superior officer.

Upon receiving only a mild eyebrow raise from Kuma, he moved back into the dragon’s space and began prodding at Kuma’s side and arm. Everywhere the boy touched, fire bloomed beneath those fingertips as once numbed injuries made themselves known. Kuma had not even been aware of the torn skin of his neck that bled profusely into the now-removed cravat; he initially had thought it only a bruise, but it seems he had been mistaken.

Judging by the wince upon Dainama’s features, he was a bit more battered than the adrenaline that once fueled him had allowed him to feel, but he was sure beginning to feel it now as the wounds were disinfected, bandaged, and the worst of them painstakingly sewn. Kuma was fortunate that only the wound on his side has actually needed stitching, but that did not make him feel any luckier during the process of having a needle pierced through the skin and string pulled through his flesh.

The sting was eased by good mead passed to him from the hands of Silvious, though it did not dissipate entirely and Kuma could not help the hiss that escaped past clenched teeth, nor could he help his expression being twisted into a grimace.

Afterwards, Dainama was compelled to apologize profusely, though Kuma simply chuckled and shook his head, waving off the skittish shifter’s concerns as he stood back up and stretched his arms high above his head.

“I would not...do that.” Dainama trailed off uncertainly, seeming to lose his voice and he watched the stitching of Kuma’s arm. He had reason in saying so, as Kuma winced and immediately brought his arms back down.

“You’re right, friend.” Kuma smiled with mirth, patting Dainama’s forearm in the form of a friendly gesture, though the wolf abruptly flinched away with surprised eyes. He appeared sheepish after the fact, moving back into reach of Kuma with cheeks red with warmth. For as funny as Kuma found his reactions to be, he did ponder just why exactly the young man seemed so fearful at times. He thought it must have had to have been related to the male’s upbringing, that perhaps his parents were not the kindest of souls, or that maybe his childhood was stained by the hands of the hunters. Maybe the boy did not even have parents, and that is why he shied away at the barest of kind touches. The thought saddened Kuma, and made him think again of MacQuarrie who had lost his parents of the age of six, who had lost two of three brothers one year later, and did not see his last for longer than a few day’s at most soon after that. Is this what MacQuarrie would become? Fearful of touch, reclusive by nature, and wary of authoritative figures? No, that could not be so.

As Kuma watched Dainama dance over to a different cot with a nervous gait, and for a shy but genuine smile to part his lips as Dras gave a passing squeeze to his shoulder, Kuma thought that this was simply Dainama’s temperament, and that he need not be so very concerned that his distance may harm MacQuarrie in irreversibly terrible ways. Even so, he hoped to close this distance soon.

“Nikaraga, May you please prepare my horse? I ride to Storia.”

“Of course, I shall prepare our horses now.”

“Nay, old friend, only I shall be going.”

“What nonsense are you talking? There is little way I will allow you to go alone, most especially in your state in the middle of winter!”

“Nikky, please understand. Someone must lead in my stead, and as you two are my aids, the task most befits you.”

“But—!”

“This is not a discussion with room for argument. My decision is final.” It seemed for a second that Nikaraga was going to argue his point further, but ultimately held his tongue as he knew the futility of arguing with Kuma once he had made up his mind.

“Very well. I will ready your horse.” Nikaraga seemed upset as he hurried off to do as Kuma had asked. Silvious seemed unhappy, though he hid it well behind a dazzling smile as he walked with Kuma to his next destination.

“Worths, I’m leaving Nikaraga as acting commander until my return. Should you need anything, you must speak with Silvious or Nikaraga.”

“And where are you going exactly?”

“Hana has called me to Storia, and so that is where I will go.”

“I see. Look after yourself then.”

“I will. I’m trusting you to tell the others of my departure.”

“Of course. Do you leave now?”

Kuma nodded.

“Then I suppose this is farewell.” Something felt final about Rory’s words, Kuma simply offering a nod of goodbye before he stalked off to where the horses were.

It’s there that he found Nikaraga, stroking a black mare’s full mane whose name was said to be Lanya. Nikaraga’s face was painted with sombre features as he did so, and Kuma felt a pang within his chest.

Kuma mounted silently with some assistance from Silvious, but did not look at Nikaraga. It was only once he was settled within the saddle that he tilted his head to Nikaraga, who still held the reigns within a firm shaking grasp.

“I need those if I am to be on my way,” Kuma said not unkindly, making no move to take them.

There passed a long silence before Nikaraga spoke.

“I worry for you.” 

Kuma’s eyes went soft as he reached down and gently clasped Nikaraga’s hands with his own. They stood there in silence, drinking in the sight of one another before Kuma eventually broke the spell and looked away.

“I know.” Was all he said before he slipped the reigns from Nikaraga’s fingers and squeezed the horse to a trot.

“May we meet again one day, dear friend.” Was the last that Kuma heard before he was gone.

~-~

It takes two days, and three unsettling nights, before Kuma begins to go mad with paranoia. He constantly felt like he was being watched, from who he did not know, but on the fourth day, he set a punishing pace. for much of his journey, he stayed often at a canter and did not slow or stop unless it was so his horse could rest and drink. When the fourth night had come, he did not set up camp. He continued through the night, and when the night became old and the sun had risen, he did not stop then either. By the fifth night, he and his mare were so exhausted that he did not dare to go any further until they both had proper rest.

But though he was exhausted, his rest was fitful at best. He dreamed terrible dreams full of loss and death, nightmares of having lost the war, of Mizuku having been executed, of his friends having been slaughtered. He even dreamt of dying, of Mizuku calling out for him in despair and him not being able to respond around the blood that filled his throat and choked him. It was that one that had him springing from his bedroll with heaving breath. He looked around with bleary eyes, shivering at the cold that hounded him. 

He had not dared to start a fire for fear of attracting whoever had been following him, and with only the cold and his horse for company, Kuma sighed a miserable sigh and pulled his limbs against his body. He tried again to fall asleep, but he found his body less inclined to do so after such horrific night terrors.

With a groan, he sat back up and looked over to his horse who was peacefully grazing on some grass beneath the tree she was tied to. He hobbled over to the thin vein of water next to her and knelt down to splash his face with the chilling water of the stream.

It’s then that he goes rigid upon hearing the sound of someone breathing just there within the tree-line. It was on instinct alone that had him on his feet with his flintlock aimed and loaded in the direction he who dared to attempt an ambush.

“Reveal yourself, and I may have mercy on you.” Kuma practically growled in as clear a tone as he could manage.

“I do hope you will find yourself merciful on this night.” From the trees, a figure was revealed.

“Mizu...” Kuma breathed, only just barely able to believe his eyes as he took in the sight of his love. 

“Yes, it’s me.” He smiled, and it was that which had Kuma lowering his pistol and launching himself into Mizuku’s arms. His eyes were wetter than they had any right to be, but Kuma frankly did not care when his wish to see Mizuku again had finally come true.

“I had feared that I would not ever see you again,” Kuma said into Mizuku’s chest, prodding absentmindedly at one of the buttons of Mizuku’s black cloak.

“I as well,” Mizuku admitted as his fingers ran a gentle course through Kuma’s curls, gently undoing knots left by the days spent traveling.

“Come,” Mizuku said, “let us rest. The night is growing old, My heart would be amiss if I were to keep you up unnecessarily.”

“I am fine.” Kuma laughed but complied, allowing for the blanket and Mizuku’s body warmth to chase away the worst of the cold.

“I wish to see you again,” Kuma said forlornly. Mizuku simply held him tighter in response.

“The war is over, you know, the Shifters having won.” He continued, heart leaping within his chest as an idea continued to grow.

“What if we were to meet again? Travel to some foreign land where we could live the rest of our lives together without a single person to intervene.” Kuma spoke wistfully with eyes o’ wonder.

“We could be at peace.” He murmured into the fabric of Mizuku’s waistcoat, and Mizuku seemed overwhelmed by the thought. Peace had been so very unachievable for both of them, and now to think they actually had a chance for such a thing; it was absurd.

“Where would we go?” Mizuku asked with a shaking voice.

“Wherever we so desired. I know just the sailor who would be more than happy to take us aboard as well.” Kuma would so love to see Kieran and Macbeth again, not to mention the promise he had made that seemed like lifetimes ago. To honor it would bring peace to Kuma’s heart. 

“And my brother, he could come with us,” Kuma added, his smile growing ever larger.

“Your brother?”

“Aye! The one I spoke of, if you recall. Little MacQuarrie.” Gods, he had not seen the boy in so long, Kuma wanted nothing more than to see him again, and to hug his brother like the world depended on it.

“Then I think it’s settled. The three of us...we will finally find our peace.” 

“Aye, but there is something I must do first. Let us meet at Hingvista Harbor in four months' time.” Mizuku nodded, pressing a kiss to Kuma’s head before urging the dragon to settle once more.

“Rest, we will have time again to speak at the harbor.” Kuma drifted off to the soothing sensation of Mizuku’s nimble fingers gliding through his hair and the steady thumping of his heart.

When Kuma awoke again in the morning, he was gone.

He would have thought it a mere dream brought on by delirium and desire to see Mizuku once again had it not been for the lingering traces of the former Hunter. His scent lingered on Kuma’s Blanket, clung to Kuma’s uniform, and bracketed his makeshift camp in the subtle scent of Mizuku. It was sweet but sour, powerful yet reserved, subtle, and still not at all. Mizuku was a complicated contradiction, even without being within one’s presence, and he simultaneously both confounded Kuma and exhilarated him all the same. It was a complicated balance that was often tipped to one end with certain interactions with the human. And yet, no matter what the man did, Kuma could not help but love him.

This sentiment confounded Kuma most of all.

Kuma’s thoughts lingered on Mizuku for much of his morning as he packed up, refilled his water supplies, scrubbed his horse down, and tacked up before finally setting off once more. He was less hurried today now that his fears and paranoia had been assuaged, having met with he who had followed him closely all these days. Even so, he dared not linger too much, for even if he was no longer plagued with the fear of being followed, the wilderness was anything but safe. Anything from dangerous predators to stray Hunters and wild tribes folk could take Kuma’s presence to mean a threat. Being brutalized, whether by claws, swords, spears, or guns, was not on Kuma’s agenda for things he planned to do anywhere in the next few days, and so, with one last check to make certain of having packed up everything and hidden any sign of having been there, he set off once more towards Storia.

Kuma resumed his travels with an air of vitality, thinking of his future and feeling helpless to stop the spike in morale, not that he’d wish to stop the shift from lethargic morbidity to what seemed like everlasting enthusiasm for what lay ahead. He imagined living his life out in some quaint little house in Havana by the sea, spending his days on the shore collecting shells and helping MacQuarrie build sandcastles all while he and Mizuku walked the beach with interlinked fingers. He imagined finding a flat in London, getting lost in the crowd with Mizuku at hand, and actually having the money to put MacQuarrie in piano lessons. He imagined living out the last of his days with a bed fit for a king and only Mizuku and MacQuarrie to share it with. He imagined going _home to Scotland_. Of Being absolved of his crimes and finally returning to Luss, his place of birth, and sharing his childhood home with Mizuku. Life in Luss was easy, simplistic, and everything Kuma desired. He wanted to spend the rest of his life fishing on smelly docks and kicking up dust around that boring old town, so long as he could do it all with Mizuku at his side. _And MacQuarrie too._

For what felt like the first time in days, he allowed himself to be at peace, and to smile.

Unfortunately, his tranquility did not last long as he watched the signs of Mizuku having been in the area slowly fade the longer he went on, and the lingering presence of another still yet remaining. Mizuku was long gone, and Kuma had travelled many miles, which left little explanation for what Kuma’s senses were telling him. The most alarming thing he had found were additional prints found after Kuma had circled back around. _Two separate prints._

Kuma’s eyes widened; he whirled around, gun in hand, just as two silhouettes came into view. And though they were visible, the light was sparse within the thick copse of trees and no features could be seen from where they stood within the thick of the fauna; concealed even to Kuma’s dragon sight.

“Reveal yourself or I will shoot!” He held his gun steadfast, unnerved by their immovable silence. Until at last, one of them spoke.

“You weren’t supposed to know about us.” The shorter of the two said as they stepped forward, and the second followed.

Just as a glimmer of recognition came in light of that voice, out from the shadows stepped a disgruntled Sally Hansen, along with a mildly sheepish Niki Namkoung who was smiling apologetically as Sally huffed and began to explain upon Kuma’s insistence.

“Well, you see, you’re a dumbass, and your old pal General Jeong asked us to keep an eye on you to keep you out of trouble,” she explained, “except, you’re pretty damn good at getting away, so we lost you a few times,” Sally grumbled, looking to all the world to be a well of endless displeasure.

“And very good at detecting us.” Niki offered, which only seemed to displease Sally evermore.

“Maybe it’s because you’re dimwitted and bad at stealth?” She offered back.

“I don’t know what you just said but it was probably stupid.” Niki huffed, though a playful quirk of his lips belied him.

“You just like to pretend that you can’t understand me!” What Niki said in response, Kuma did not know, for it did not seem to be English and sounded of a harsh and distant land. And if Sally herself understood or not, Kuma was unsure, for she threw back crude and vulgar hand gestures and said nothing more.

The mystery finally having been solved, Kuma found himself both exhausted and relieved. Had it been something more dangerous than the worry of one of his closest friends, danger would be upon him, and he was already so very tired. He did not need to add an attack to his already extraneous journey, and while he had not wanted additional company along his journey, he had to admit the protection would be nice, along with having conversation to soothe his lonely heart. Still, he felt obligated to refuse on basic principle, even if there was little active desire to be left alone.

“It’s kind of Nikaraga to have sent you both,” Kuma said, reasonably certain it had been the more mild-mannered of the two brothers, “but I hardly need someone to watch over me. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s safer in numbers.” Sally gripped him hard on the shoulder, easily dismissing his argument.

“There are things—dark things out there, Kuma. Sure, you can take care of yourself, but you don’t always have to. Let someone help you for once.” She eyed him seriously, hand gentling in its grip upon his boney shoulder, and all the fight eased from his chest at the gentle way she watched him. Sally’s typically hardened gaze was soft with sentiment, while the edge of her wit had soothed to a gentle urging push for Kuma to agree, to trust.

Niki’s was friendly and all-encompassing, smiling shyly with bright eyes and twitching fingers that longed to comfort, to hold, to touch.

Kuma found no reason to say no.

“We better get moving then. I hope to be in Ketena by nightfall.”

And then Sally smiled, and somehow Niki’s grin widened even more despite the threat of his cheeks splitting, and Kuma smiled too, a private smile in which Kuma was silently grateful he did not have to do the rest alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this, it means the world to me!
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated and I would absolutely love to hear any thoughts you had regarding the story!
> 
> Have a lovely day!


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